I Wrote This
by Angel Beech
Summary: PG for mild abuse and cursing. What if you had a friend who was always there and always helped? Back in the world of Muggles, Trinity needs someone. But friends come in odd ways, like from the pages in a book. Or maybe from the depths of the heart.
1. A friend like Harry

Chapter 1  
  
This is not a story about Harry and his friends going off to Hogwarts and having a wonderfully fun time, except for the evil that seems to be ever present and Draco with the brand-new Firebolt. So why is this a Harry Potter fanfic? Because it's about real magic, and Harry. How he inspired people to go on with their lives after depression through the art of literature. This is a pretty much true story. Some of the names have been changed for protection, and the plot has been twisted up a little, just to make sure there's no legal trouble. But other than that, this is like reading a diary. There are plenty more stories about how people have used their talents to help others. All you have to do is look for them.  
  
Note to disclaimers: The copies of Harry Potter sit on my shelf, not on my screen. I own those books, not the characters or the stories. As for the rest of the story, have you ever heard of someone owning human lives? Maybe in other times, other places, other lives.... but not in mine.  
  
Trinity sat outside early that morning, crying gently as the leaves swished across her face. Her scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and mouth, the burgundy and blue dancing in the wind. Her oaken hair fell in her face and she brushed it out of her eyes frustratedly. There still wasn't enough money in her pocket, but that wasn't what she was crying for. The stone wall she sat on was hard and cold, not at all comforting for a sad and confused girl. She thought her parents loved each other, then why was she so mistaken?  
  
Every night they had kissed and hugged, and smiled at each other. They both came to all her school activities. Her mother volunteered, her father was president of the PTA*. They lived considerably well off, and the love their family had seemed to glow off them as each gentle smile towards each other passed. A smile held so much. Like photo albums, they shone with colour** and glory. Like photo albums, they told stories of happiness and sadness, but of life. Like photo albums, they sat on the shelf, only taken out certain days. Like photo albums, they were memories of the past. The past was not the present, nor was it the future. The present seemed to be the future. That's the way it seemed.  
  
Ted and Maria Poirier's life seemed to be the type you found in a fairy tale. Maria was a beautiful young immigrant to the country. Ted was a handsome and successful colledge student of a well-off family. He was walking home one evening and saw two men crowding by a gorgeous young Spanish woman. The woman seemed to not like their presence, and was calling for help. Heroically, Ted drove them off.  
  
They spent time together, quickly falling in love. Perhaps that was it, too hasty. They were soon married, not wanting to wait. Both their families approved happily, and they gave birth to their only child, Trinity.  
  
Trinity was born into happiness. Trinity continued in happiness. Trinity had spent all her life in happiness, until now.  
  
There were times when her father would be so late to come home from work, when her mother would sit up for hours, spending it all stroaking Trinity's face for comfort, wondering when Ted would be home atlast. When they got into arguments, vicious and out of control, usually with her mother giving in. When they'd fight, for the good of something, they'd say. If Ted would take more time off then he would be able to spend more time with the family he was obligated to. Why should he, wasn't saving her life enough? Didn't that make her obligated to him? Often he'd yell he should have left her with the men, and Maria would lie crying at his feet. These would be at times when Trinity snuck back from her friend's house early, when she'd been so quiet they'd forgot she was still home.  
  
She didn't know what he did to her when she wasn't home. Maybe he'd kick her, or punch her. She only saw him hit her. But such large bruises couldn't come from hitting alone, which Maria cleverly covered with her pants and shirt, or the exact way she'd pull her sock up just so no one could see her lower leg. Or the long gloves that covered up to her elbows, that hid the red scratch. Or the way her hair permed just to fall over her cheeks. Mrs. Poirier had a lot of make-up, mainly foundation. She didn't wear a lot for looks. Make-up is used to look different. In plays it is used to appear to be somebody else. Maria prentended to be someone else, someone with a normal life, who didn't have to worry about her husband beating her up. A perfect use of make-up.  
  
Trinity often dreamed of renting an appartement, moving out over night. Her sudden intrest in cleanliness didn't make her parents suspect anything. The big boxes that were filled with all her important things looked nice and tidy. But they had a much more dramatic use. She waited for her mother to say the words, "Baby, we're leaving." She asked why they hadn't left yet when her father was late arriving home.  
  
"Give me time, baby, give me time. Just a bit more money, then we'll go for good," her mother promised.  
  
That's why Trinity had a bank account, started when the abuse started. She still needed more in order to support her and her mother for a month, but it was growing, if not working.  
  
There were time when all this seemed impossible. Times when she felt like running off a cliff into the sunset and not looking back, but falling forever. But she always had a friend to lean on.  
  
A friend who always cared, and agreed to what you said. The type you could count on, the type you didn't need to be cool or rich or popular or good-looking to be friends with. The type of friend who was so popular, but always had time for you and never let anything get to his head. The type who could relate to you, and give advice. The type who had friends who liked you too, and all lead intresting lives and told you everything, and never made you feel left out.  
  
Do such wonderful friends exist? No, this friend didn't exist to so many people. This friend wasn't real flesh and blood. But there were so many who saw the life and depended on this friend, to whom they talked to or told secrets to or even just hung out with. The light was so strong, anyone could see it. Anyone who cared. Because so many didn't see this friend, while so many did. After all, most aldults don't like saying they are friends with paper.  
  
This friend was remarkable, and Trinity adored him, so it was no suprise she turned and went to see him now. You see, this friend, he was called Harry.  
  
  
  
*= PTA means Parent Teacher Association  
  
**= How many Americans cried, "She spelt 'color' wrong!" Well, I spell it C- O-L-O-U-R, cuz I'm Canadian.  
  
So, do you like it? Do you want more? Do you like it? I very much appreciate constructive critacism, or asking for more of what you like. I can't change the story, it would be like changing life to me. How would you feel if Columbus murdered people instead of founded lands, or there wasn't Christmas? I can't change the plot, but I can change the style of writing. So tell me, waddya think? 


	2. Something in the soul?

Chapter 2  
  
Yes, I'd like to thank the people who reviewed. But also, I now have MSN. If you are intrested in being a part in my contact list, please e-mail me. Also, the plot of the story is real. Harry's ghost? That's Trinity's belief- form.  
  
Note to disclimers: I'd love to own Harry Potter, too bad I don't.  
  
He knew she couldn't go on living like this.it was just too hard for her. Every day he saw her stray more from the other kids. She felt seperated, going threw what no one else had. Why was it her? No one knew. But he sensed it. He knew it. He had overheard her, read her things. Snooping? Perhaps. But not to him.  
  
Trinity finnished the last line on the page. She put it into her zip-up binder, the special one. The one with the picture of Harry in it. Where was he? She had been looking for him, yet she couldn't sense him. There were times when the human was there, and there were times when there didn't seem to be.... anything. So she sat, waiting for the sensing feeling to come, lying on the floor of her room. She reviewed what she had written. It was OK, but she didn't know she was writing facts. She was basing this book on her life, but who was this 'he'? She didn't think he existed. He did. But not like Harry existed. He existed to all.  
  
The door creaked.  
  
"Harry?" she called softly. He had come.  
  
Suddenly, the magic, the thrill, the whole life came into her as the friend she longed for entered the room. He walked across from the door to the wooden bed, past the wooden boxes to her little space in the closet, her favourite hiding space. In it was her club house, he knew that. He liked her. Many her age believed in him, but not in a real way. They read him, they didn't feel him.  
  
But her, oh, she was different. She still climbed trees and had her closet clubhouse. Her teddy bears sat at the end of her bed. Her room was still a baby pink. Teased as she was, she was what was considered childish. Childish or wiser than the rest, though? She saw what no other saw, yet was regarded as one with less wisdom. Perhaps she had more.  
  
"I need more money, Harry," she whispered, and he nodded sympathetically. The looked at one another before she continued. "More, then me n' Mom, we'll have a place of our own. But can she survive without Dad's support? I mean, she's been a stay at home Mom since I was born. But she can get a job as a waitress or something if all else fails.... and I could start a paper-route or something........ I guess."  
  
There was a long pause, in which one who heard the truth of myth could hear not one set of lungs breathing hard, but two. They rose and feel, one after the other. In unison, like they were both 'real' for the moment, and one was equal to the other.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," she said finally, and he looked up into her eyes. He never spoke. Wiser than words, characters were.  
  
He nudged the blanket, and she looked down at its frayed knitt. She comprehended immidiately.  
  
"Yeah, I'll sleep a bit. I've only got twenty minutes, but I guess I'll kill myself with worry if I don't," she sighed.  
  
He came back once, and as he watched the blankets rise and fall, he wondered what exactly she felt. He could sense it, but not put it into words. He wondered why she was plagued by this misery, and when she had such a chance to be happy, why had that chance been taken away? Why had someone placed her in a pit? Where were her wings when she needed to fly?  
  
He didn't know it, but her wings were close-by. They were the exact wings that had created Harry himself. Yes, they lay. The binder, zipped up, containing no answers for her, but urging her to find her own. And ontop lay the pen, the way to find them.  
  
********************  
  
He knew she couldn't go on living like this.it was just too hard for her. Every day he saw her stray more from the other kids. She felt seperated, going threw what no one else had. Why was it her? No one knew. But he sensed it. He knew it. He had overheard her, read her things. Snooping? Perhaps. But not to him.  
  
He was Collin Jackson, standing in his crowd of popularity, wondering why he cared. Why did he care about childish Trinity, when he had all that he wanted? Plenty of friends, good looks, top of it all. Others ate his remains, while he feasted on the glory of beating them. So why did he care about the fact that he knew Trinity's problem? It was hers and her mothers, not his.  
  
"Collin?" Natasha, another popular grade seven, demanded.  
  
"Uhh... yeah, I'm off today....." he excused himself very lamely.  
  
Natasha rolled her eyes towards him, then looked over and snorted.  
  
"There's poor, poor Trinity. What's her problem? All she does is sit there and.... sit. She has no friends, no looks, no nothing. Why does she wake up in the morning? Why doesn't she just stay in bed? It would be not only my pleasure," she said cruely.  
  
Natasha was wrong, Trinity had friends. Friends who thought they knew all about her. They didn't know the begining. They didn't know about the abuse, or her savings, or anything. Yes, they knew she liked cats. That was nothing.  
  
The bell for the begining of school rang. The students hurried in a large mob, all pushing and shoving to get out of the frosty air and into the warm building. Their breath fogged up the windows as they ran to their homeroom. But the thought still stayed in Collin's mind, Why did he care? Why about stupid Trinity?  
  
Why did he care? He had never talked to her, and likewise. They hadn't even been in the same school before junior high. They had never been together in the same club or outing, or even in the same room, other than the classroom. His handsome face had never dared look into the dark brown eyes of they shy, silent classmate. Until now.  
  
Their lockers, meters apart, clanged as a clumsy student banged them all.  
  
Bang! Trinity looked towards the crash. Bang! Collin did, too. They both removed their eyes from the odd seem, and then they met. His eyes were a silver-blue, more electric looking and bright, yet it was her eyes that were piercing. Haunted and on the verge of tears. Bright and glassy, yet they gazed into you like they could see right into your soul and beg the diamond in the ash for help. But Collin didn't have a diamond. He had a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. And there is always a bit of Harry in the soul, even when the soul doesn't know it.  
  
  
  
OK, the latest chapter! How do you like it? Please review! 


	3. Eyes are forever

Chapter 3  
  
Yep, another chapter. That's it. All I have to say except:  
  
(When something is in brackkets in the middle of the story, it mean I'm talking)  
  
And when I write something in italic, it's something Trinity is writing in her story based on her life. (From the second chapter.)  
  
Disclaimers: (glances at paper) Omigawd! JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me! So nice of you to find that out!  
  
She felt suddenly aware that every touch, every single thing she saw would have an incredible emotional impact on her, beyond words could explain. If someone was crying, she'd cry, and feel their pain. If someone was hurting someone else, she knew she'd be hurting too. But not the type that could be heeled with a band-aid. The type of hurt that hurt even more.  
  
Trinity sighed threw math, science, and social studies class. It was the last period of the morning, double English. The teacher, Mrs. LaPeil, was rambling on about native-americans and their traditions. It might have been intresting, if it weren't for the fact that she had a sore throat and talked sans expression. (Without expression.) She made even the bloodiest, coolest battles sound nboring.  
  
"And now, time for our project partners," she drawled on. (I decided to just make her be talking English in the story instead of making her talk French and translating it to English.)  
  
"Jack and Betty," the reponse was a mixture of giggling of girls and groans of Jack. "Bobby and Janice. Julia and Brandon. Billy and Juniper. Jimmy and Timmy. (Sorry, I suck at making up names!) Tanya and Mitsue....."  
  
And so Mrs. LaPeil droned on, until there was few people left to name. And the next name she pulled from the hat was:  
  
"Trinity and," she paused while shuffling a couple slips of paper apart. "Collin."  
  
(I know, this may be predictable, but remember, I have to base this on real-life, so I can't juice up the plot, even when I want to!)  
  
Trinity groaned and grinned. Collin? He was by far the handsomest guy in grade seven. But he just thought she was a geek and he hardly worked at all. So it was a mix of emotions, that temporarily, and I mean temporarily, took her mind of the abuse and hardship she had felt.  
  
The bell for lunch rang and Trinity rushed from her locker, trying to get home as fast as possible. She knew her father was at work, but she didn't care. She still felt sick with worry about her mother. She wanted to be sure she was OK, and not just guess. She was only a couple blocks away from the school, but the distance seemed too take forever. She was hardly finnished the first street and yet already she could feel something was strange.  
  
"Harry," she whispered. At times like these, she wondered if he was using his devination with her. It certainly felt that way. She knew something was wrong. There had to be. She felt like her head was going haywire, like someone had cut the circuit. Visions of her mother drifted across her mind like ghosts. Infact, the visions were ghosts, all of her poor, precious mother, under the foot of the evil man who had ruined her life, who was laughing now, laughing at her....  
  
At one point in her life, 'love' might have been a word she would have used to describe how she felt about her father. Not now. She hated every detail of him. Every bit. She hated the way he'd ground her for months due to a tiny infraction of the rule. She hated the way he never seemed to take intrest in her and love her. Infact, he seemed to hate her just as much as she did him. She loathed him for the way he treated her mother, her poor, poor mother. She hated the way he wouldn't let her have friends over, or complained when her mother bought her something expensive as a treat. She hated the way he acted as if she was trying to steal his wife from him, saying that she loved trinity more. It was probably true. She hated the way he smelt when he came home from a bar, all smokey and drunk. The way he acted like her loved her when there was company. The way he was so obsessive about having a 'perfect family' when they were so far from it. She hated him.  
  
Trinity saw violence everywhere, on TV, at home, in movies, on the internet... She read about it in books, even in Harry Potter. She had never reacted to the fake stuff. Never cared. But she saw it, a large crowd around two people, chanting the familiar chant: "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"  
  
She had to peak in, she had too. It was too much temptation, too much knowledge against it. She went white as she saw them, Collin and the other boy, Kyle. Kyle was the jock of the other class, not as popular as collin, but if he beat Collin up..... that was another story. And if Collin refused, then they'd go over to Kyle. And Collin would do anything to defend his reputation.  
  
They dodged and ducked each other's blows. It wasn't very into contact, no one was injured yet. But as Collin turned around to prepare, Trinity saw Kyle approach him, about to spring. She knew the kick he was using. It could probably make Collin end up in the emergency room dome properly. She clapped her hands over her eyes, but then something bigger happened. She felt the urge to do something, to break free, to care. She hated this, it was almost like her mother kicking her father. Something broke free of her, and she did something she had never done before....  
  
"ARRRRGH!!!!" she screamed as she burst from the crowd into the center of the ring, warning him. The people surrounding watched in amazement, and suddenly, she wasn't so much of a geek. Risking herself to warn a guy? Cute, very sweet. girls 'ooooo'ed and 'ahhhh'ed over such a cute action, and pictured themselves, doing the same. Boys chuckled and thought she looked kinda pretty. This was the Trinity that no one had seen. The Trinity that had an opignion, which put a new perpective on her. And that can change a lot.  
  
Collin smiled as he saw her. Sweet? Yeah. Nice? Yeah. She was just a little shrimp, couldn't hurt a fly if she douzed it with millions of cans of bug-killer. This was a different Trinity, one he hadn't seem. He saw Kyle, and smiled. Moving forward, he knocked the enemy down, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Trinity, for whom the moved had been made. She was in shock.  
  
How could he? Hurt another person, so freely? Hadn't he seen the blank, horrified stare that haunted her dreams. The eyes that looked into the spirit, tugging at the soul. The eyes thay were the same as her mother's, or the people on TV's. They were the same as every eye that had seen pain and depair. They were they eyes that every other person seemed to be able to ignore, though she couldn't get them off her mind for a second. They were her own eyes, though she didn't know it.  
  
She went all white, and her mouth opened and closed, like a fish without water. Her throat went so dry she couldn't talk. Her eyes weny wide, wide open, so you could see the whites.  
  
"Thanks," Collin grinned, and put his arm aroound her, motioning for the crowd to applaud, of which they did.  
  
Trinity stayed in that state for five seconds, and then found some strength left in her.  
  
"You're a monster! I hate you!" she cried and ran off sobbing hysterically, all the way home.  
  
It was Collin's turn to be in shock. I hate you? He had never heard those words uttered to him by a girl. He looked towards her, and saw her running off. But there was someone following her. A figure, about her age. Jet black hair, piercing green eyes, thick glasses. Harry? The boy disapeared, yet Collin could not erase him from his mind.  
  
Trinity ran home faster than ever. She rang the doorbell five times, crying harder and harder. Her mother finally opened it, and Trinity cried even harder.  
  
There was a big, red scar on her cheek bone. Old blood fell from it. There was a big purple bruise next to it. Her mother was crying gently. She shifted unconfortably, wondering what her daughter thought of this. She didn't know it was nothing new to her.  
  
"Is he home?" Trinity asked anxiously. "Is he home?"  
  
Her mother shook her head, and her eyes filled with more tears.  
  
They wrapped their arms around each other, crying harder. Nothing could break that bond that puny words could not describe. They felt pain, but they felt love, which often associates with each other. But could one over-power the other? They did not know.  
  
  
  
So, chapter 3, wow. Do you like it? Please review! 


	4. Hope when none else seems

Chapter 4  
  
Hi! No one is reviewing anymore, oh well......  
  
Key: (This during the story means I'm talking)  
  
This means Trinity is writing in her story from chapters 2+3  
  
And also, there is an incredible amount of legal work involved in the chapter, but I didn't want to put it in because it's so confusing, so as unbelievable as it may seem, everything to do with 'the big event' in this chapter is legal. (Please see note at bottom of chapter.)  
  
So, OK let's get on with the story except for this:  
  
Note to disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter. There.  
  
It was so hard to see what no one else could, acting like it wasn't there. She could feel it, everywhere. Like it was some type of thing that you couldn't really care about. Like nothing ever really happens to people that really matters. Like other people mattered at all.  
  
Often she wished she wasn't this way, infact, she always wished she wasn't this way. Maybe this would have changed if her father wasn't so possesive of her mother. Or maybe it wouldn't have happened if her father had really loved her.....  
  
Trinity paused in her thoughts in her mother's arms. She felt so helpless, like nothing she could do or had done could ever help. She paused and let more tears come out. They spilled all over her mother's clothes as she cried, harder and harder. She sqeezed her eyes shut to stop them, but they flowed out just as freely.  
  
"Mom....." she sobbed. "I... I don't want to stay here.... I want to.... to go away!"  
  
Her mother looked at her in the eye.  
  
"You don't?" she asked, though the answer was obvious.  
  
Trinity shook her head back and forth, so her long, brown hair swayed. She gazed up into her mother's eyes again, and felt the tears starting to brew.  
  
"Then let's go," she announced, a new boldness cracking out from underneath the clay that had so strongly help it down. Maria felt a new urge, to rise about the darkness that had made her cower to the filthy slob that had saved yet ruined her life. It was time to change. She wasn't the uneducated young Spanish immigrant she was when she had first met him. She had lived, she had learned. She had been.  
  
"Mom?" Trinity questioned, so shocked at the change of attitude in her mother. But she didn't doubt this statement. It was the one in her dreams. Who ever heard of turning down a dream? A dream was something you had to need to live. A dream was something, that as long as it was for good purpose, came true. Now was her time to rise.  
  
Her mother walked over to the phone and dialed in the number, slightly shakey, but confident. Why was she doing this? She didn't like to appear weak to anyone. She hated crying infront of her daughter, but it was unhelpable. Now was her moment to look strong and brave. Little did she know this stubborn spirit was the one that saved her daughter's life.  
  
"Hello? This is Maria Angeloz, phning in saying Trinity of 7-5 will not be in school this afternoon. Good-bye," she said stubbornly into the reciever.  
  
"You used your maiden name," said Trinity, looking up.  
  
Her mother glared at her. Not at her directly, but looking at her, meaning it towards Ted.  
  
"I will never, ever, ever use his horrid name attached to mine ever, ever again! Do you hear me?! Never!" she announced, almost shouting. This did not upset Trinity, she liked it. She liked the boldness. She liked the hope where there seemed none left. It was their life, why should they live it under someone else?  
  
"Neither will I," Trinity replied, trying to get the same tone. "Neither will I. I'm Trinity Angeloz."  
  
Her mother smiled and said, "Any other names you'd like to change while you're at it?"  
  
Trinity looked at her seriously in the eye. "I wanna change my middle name. He gave me my middle name. I don't want memories."  
  
Maria laughed long and hard. It was a nice sound, not heard in a long time. Infact, there had never been such a rich and happy laugh in the house. But her reply was serious, "If you want to, you can. Why not?"  
  
Trinity giggled as she ran upstairs to get her trunk. But then she stopped at the top. What would her father think? What would he do when he found out they were leaving and divorcing? Would he stalk her, hurt her more? What would he do? He'd be even angryer, and suddenly all happiness that had ever been got swept away in all the rushing waterfall of worry that poured from her.  
  
She walked into the room and sat on the trunk. She tried to fold clothes and put them in, but she couldn't. Everything she cared about, every stuffed animal, book, anything, was in there already. But that wasn't the reason. She was scared.  
  
"Harry," she cried softly. ****************************  
  
"Harry?!" Collin said in surprise. But he knew it had something to do with Trinity. He had hurt her without touching her. No, he had touched her, every punch he had thrown she had felt, even if he had aimed for someone else. She wasn't ordinary.  
  
He looked down, and there it lay. 'I Wrote This' by Trinity. A book, almost full of writing. She wrote? He never knew she had started a novel. Trinity?  
  
He opened the first page and started to read. He didn't notice the black-haired boy, hovering over him. Some people like to help others see. Harry was one of those people. The hope when no else seemed.  
  
  
  
OK, thanks for the review! Youpie! I always like more. Just some notes:  
  
a) Maria, in real life, had filled out plenty of legal forms for divorce beforehand, I just didn't put it in.  
  
b) I'm thinking of changing the story name. Do you think it's a good idea? People may not get the meaning of the title unless they read the coming chapters.  
  
c) Angeloz may not be a real Spanish name, but I have a Spanish friend who's last name is Angeloz, so that's for you, Dora!  
  
d) What do you think Trinity's middle name should be? I was thinking Grace or Hope, but I want suggestions please!  
  
e) I showed this to my friend, and she thought the story would finnish in the next two chapters. IT WILL NOT!! There's a lot more to tell....  
  
OK, that's it, buh bye! 


	5. Will the flower bloom?

Chapter 5  
  
Yippee!!!! I'd LOVE to thank everyone who reviewed, and I'd like to note that the 'What will Trinity's middle name be?' contest is still up. Here's how it stands:  
  
Hope: 1 from review  
  
Avril: 1 from friend (Avril is my first name (*), but we're talking about Avril Lavigne!)  
  
Michelle: 1 from friend (Cuz Michelle Branch n' Avril Lavigne rock!)  
  
And by the way, I'm dividing this story into three parts. This, part one, is 'End or Begining?', the second is called 'Trials and Tribulations' and the third will be called 'Only Hope'. See bottom please.  
  
Note to disclaimers: And yessss! That is the right answer! JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me! You win a million dollars! (Or how 'bout a big kiss instead, he he, he he!)  
  
-The free bird wanted to fly, but how could she be let out of her cage when it was already open, but there was a cat guarding it? How could a bird remove the cat? Cats were big and hairy, sometimes very vicious. Birds were small, and mostly fell victim to cats. Maybe if she were an eagle she could fly. But she wasn't an eagle, but a sparrow against a lion.-  
  
Trinity read and reread what she had written on a sheet of loose leaf. Where had her book gone. Perhaps slipped out of her backpack? She didn't know, but she missed it. It was her dream. It was her hope. It was her.  
  
**********************************  
  
Collin gazed down at the sky blue notebook, more like a diary-style book than anything. It was definately powerful. Moving. He had never been this moved by a book. Yeah, Harry was great, but he couldn't believe that someone had to live through such stuff, like that. It was scary!  
  
But the thing that spooked him out the most was that she had wrote about him. Yes, she had called him 'Cameron' but any fool that knew him could see that 'Cameron' was the boastful boy who thought the world was at his mercy and always picked on 'Taniya', though she still liked him. It really put things into perspective. He wasn't hearing what his faults were from a giggly girl telling him he was 'perfect'. This girl did not sugar coat things.  
  
It wasn't, "Oh, he was really an asshole, but that's OK, I'll go on to make him a sweet, lovable character."  
  
It was, "You totally screwed up my life in emotions whether I love you or hate you, and I really don't need that, so would you please get the hell out of my face?!"  
  
Swearing, one thing he could live without. He was going to change. Ahem, why?! Why, you may ask, would a popular, loved boy change for a somewhat unpopular tiny girl? Well, it was because, Trinity wasn't what he had thought.  
  
She wasn't just the quiet little smart kid. She had already proven that! But she wasn't just a normal person, living a normal life! She was a walking, talking, living, breathing person! She had to put up with all that stuff that had screwed up her life; her father abusing her mother physically and her mentally, her mother keeping it secret, her whole dilema of kids teasing her, seeing the face of someone beating another person up, people snobbing her. He stopped. HIM!!!!  
  
He was part of the problem! He was messing up Trinity's life! He was a problem. He had never put it that way. Geeks didn't seem to have feelings. But Trinity was more than a geek. She was caring and compassionate, even and she was very..... complimentable, beauty-wise. He view had made him see, no longer just a cute face to smile at girls, he stood. Waiting for the bell to ring, to end lunch, just so he could see her, appologize. Maybe she'd make his character adjust too, then. She had written such a powerful novel, and yet, it might not even matter to someone else. It was the eyes of the holder that was the judge.  
  
"I need to find her," he said eventually.  
  
Did he here a voice say 'good,'? He thought he just had. He glanced up at the trees, and there was the kid.  
  
Black hair, green eyes. Same glasses.  
  
"Harry?" he gaped. The boy winked and vannished.  
  
Trinity sat and waited, looking at her trunk, fully packed. She took one last look at the nook in her closet. It was old and full of horrid memories, but for finally the last time, she'd sit and wait for....  
  
The door creaked a bit.  
  
"Harry," she whispered, very softly and gently, so not to let anyone else hear.  
  
He nodded, to the trust and faith she had in him for the mention of his name. He felt like Trinity was much younger than him, but much wiser, if only she could learn to understand the true meaning of the wisdom in her. Because truthfully, she was wiser than him, and many children her age, and even wiser than most people were when they were much older. Because she had been through all this. Good, no. He wished she was not this wise, because then she would lead a normal life.  
  
Life is a flower. Pain is watered with tears. Tears show compassion. Compassion sprouts into wisdom. Wisdom blooms into love. Love is life. All is life. But life is never fair. Why wasn't life fair? Why couldn't it just equal itself out? Why couldn't kids in Africa just hand a bit of pain over to everyone, so the burden would be carried out equally. Why couldn't pain come to someone who deserved it?  
  
"Harry," she said again, and looked up at him.  
  
He looked back at her sadly.  
  
"Harry, I'm not sure if I want to.... if I'm brave enough.... to do this.... go away.... away from home....." her voice trailed off.  
  
He nodded.  
  
When would the flower bloom.  
  
SNEAK PEAK: (for next and future chapters) "Well, if you'd stop feeling so sorry for yourself, than maybe you'd just look up and see that some people love you, it's not my fault your father doesn't!"  
  
"Why do you always pretend to be someone you're not, like you're all that. Lift the veil please!"  
  
"Get away from him, you fag. What the hell?"  
  
"Why is the world against me, Harry?"  
  
  
  
Notes: *= My name is Avril Angel, but I go by my second name.  
  
-Thanks to all my reviewers, I love them, I appreciate them! They really touched me!  
  
-I'm always up for more reviews.  
  
-Two polls: 'Should Collin and Trinity fall in love?' and 'What should Trinity's middle name be?' 


	6. Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinty Trinity...

Chapter 6  
  
Omigosh, double digits in the reviews! Yeah! Thanks, Sarah, Faintaisling, Lil, ferggirl99, Maple Kachina, Fate's Child, and Monki-from-hell.  
  
In reply to Lil's questions. Yes, this is a true story. The story is true, the names and a bit of the plot is not, so I don't get sued. At the end of part 1, I'll tell you all the stuff that isn't true. But the Collin/Trinity? poll is just seeing how you feel about the idea.  
  
Note to Disclaimers: Who owns Harry Potter? Angel Beech, you say? Nope! It is JK Rowling. You are the weakest link, good-bye!  
  
-Life wasn't fair. Life would never be fair. It just didn't work out that way. It was like deviding a number with a remainder. All the other people got an equal amount, but one person got the whole remainder. But when the person was presented with an oppotunity, why didn't they take it? Because they weren't always sure. Consequences were things the devil put in life just to make sure you weren't having too good a time. And it was working. She knew life had something planned for her, but was it good....?  
  
Trinity wasn't there after lunch. How could he appologize if she wasn't there?! He wanted to appologize, it was eating him up. That he had made a young girl's life, that was already bad enough, worse! Where was she?  
  
Trinity knew she had to leave. Let go of the place she wanted to, but she just was so scared of her father.... killing her, if he found out where they now lived.... But was it a rational fear, or just a result of Hollywood playing with her brain? She felt someone stroak her hair gently. She lookedup. There he was, Harry! She had seen him, but he had never felt, or talked, or touched or anything! But she had felt his hand! It had to be real. Right?  
  
"Trinity!" her mom called from downstairs. "Trinity, we've got to go!"  
  
Trinity knew what she... HAD to do. Just be brave and suck it through. (Cool! That rhymes!) She knew it would take so long to heal the pain, but how could pain heal if she never let it? She had to.  
  
"Coming!" she called, and heaved herself up from the floor. She dragged the chest, full of her toys and books and everything. Not only that, but of life. Tucked between the clothes was a bit of hope. Next to the pages in her books, there was love. Love........  
  
Love screwed up life. She used to love her dad, but then he abused her. She used to love life, but then it started to hate her. She thought she loved Collin, but it turned out he was just another jerk. Or was he....? Love.......  
  
Love sucks a butt, she decided to herself.  
  
Then she hurried downstairs to leave. Her trunk went thunka-thunka- thunka as it rolled down the steps and slid across the floor. She ran outside, just to see her mom in her car, smiling. There she was, looking happier than ever.  
  
"Come," was all she uttered.  
  
There they were, driving downtown, music up full blast, singing along to the songs on the radio.  
  
"Anything else you'd like to change about your life?" her mother asked.  
  
Trinity nodded. She wanted to erase her father. She wanted to kill Collin. She wanted a boyfriend. She wanted Collin, but a different one. She wanted to change, herself. But what were some changes she could actually do? Her attitude, her hair, her clothes.......  
  
"I wanna pierce my ears, again, and get a haircut," she decided, chewing on a strand if hair thoughtfully.  
  
"How much off?" Maria asked, expecting an inch or two.  
  
"I want it short. Really short. Like, hardly goes down the back of my neck short," she said seriously.  
  
Maria's eyes widdened. "Are you sure?" she asked.  
  
"Totally," nodded Trinity.  
  
It was her life. She didn't need Collin.  
  
Trinity didn't come back. Damn! He knew it, she was mad at him. But it wasn't his fault..... Damn! Trinity. Trinity, Trinity, Trinity. Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity.  
  
He wasn't completely in love with Trinity. He didn't have a crush on Trinity. She wasn't gorgeous. She wasn't nice. She sucked. Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity.  
  
He wasn't obsessed with Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity. Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity Trinity, Trinity, Trinity.  
  
No way did he like Trinity. No way.  
  
He didn't even care if she got killed by her father. Yeah, right.  
  
  
  
So, you likes? Kinda short, I know, but:  
  
a) Please remember all my polls.  
  
b) If you'd like my MSN, please e-mail me.  
  
c) I know the sneak peaks didn't appear in this chapter, but they're coming up soon, very soon. And I have just one comment to add to them: "I love you."  
  
OK, that's it. Please review, bye! 


	7. In Collin's little mind

Chapter 7  
  
Wow, chapter seven! I've never gotten to a chapter seven before. I'd like to thank all reviewers, you all mean so much to me. (Sniff, sniff.) Thanks, Lil. Your story is great, when will the next chapter be out? (*)And I'd like to add that the current time in this story is just after 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets' was released. Did I say that already? Oh well, hear it twice! (LOL)  
  
And also, I'd appreciate it if someone told me how to write a bio and how to get itallics for Trinity's stories. OK? Well, let's get started after....  
  
Note to disclaimers: You are delaying the story even longer. That really sucks. But I don't own Harry Potter.  
  
-Haircuts can be odd things. They can truely affect you or not. She felt affected. The siscors didn't only clip her hair, but clipped of all the sorrow and misery she had gone threw. Her father had liked her long hair. Another reason she wanted to cut it. But after the hair cut, for the first time in her life, she could shake her head around without hair weighing her down, or it flying in her eyes. It was freedom in both ways, because for the first time, she could enjoy herself without the hair flying in her eyes, worrying about her mother, and without the hair weighing down her freedom. Hair had been like shackles. Now was time to let go.-  
  
Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity,Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity, Trinity.  
  
It was after school and Collin was going threw all his things. She wasn't there. She wasn't there! What had her father done.  
  
There was one thing that truely soothed him like that. He checked his e- mail. Computers and visiting porn sites made his brain go soft and made him forget everything. He might not of looked at porn sites for Trinity, but now she was gone. Why should he care? He checked his e-mail. One from Natasha. Jeremy. Went. Ashleigh. Trinity. Jane. Trinity?!  
  
He skipped all the others, and read Trinity's. It was as polite as a letter, with all proper capitilization and spelling.  
  
Dear Collin,  
  
I am sorry I was not here this afternoon to work on our project. I must have doused you with plenty of work. Please accept my humble appologies. I might not be at school tomorrow.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
  
Trinity She wasn't coming. Not good.  
  
"ARGH!" he cried out in anger. Everything else in life had been so easy, why was he crying over ONE STUPID GIRL! He had all the other girls begging at his feet to go out with him. He was used to silver platers. It wasn't right, WHAT WAS GOING ON?!  
  
He knew what to do. Get rid of everything. Every single little thing that reminded him of Trinity. Everything. He started with the glove he had worn when he had punched Kyle. He put it in a garbage bag, along with his English binder. And the valentine she had given him in second grade. And the pencil he had lent her.  
  
AN HOUR AND FIVE GARBAGE BAGS LATER..................  
  
And along with that world atlas. There were world atlases in his class. And Trinity was, or maybe used to, be in his class. And don't forget that new earring. Trinity wore earrings. Plus the bible. Adam and Eve didn't wear clothes, just like he'd like to see Trinity. Wait, wouldn't he get sent to Hell for that? He placed the bible back on the shelf.  
  
"Get a grip," said a voice.  
  
Collin turned around.  
  
"What?!" he asked.  
  
It was the boy. Same hair, same eyes, same glasses. Same shirt unbottoned over shirt, same blue jeans.  
  
"Get a grip, she still likes you, you moron," Harry grinned.  
  
"Huh?" asked Collin.  
  
"She still likes you," Harry repeated and left Collin to do his wonderings.  
  
Trinity WAS there the next day. Collin ran up to her.  
  
"Hi," she smiled, yet blushed, at the unknown attention.  
  
"Um.... hi," he said carefully.  
  
"So..... um.... what's up?" she said.  
  
"Well, um... you got your hair cut, I see," he replied.  
  
Trinity blushed the deepest crimson and looked down. She was glad he had noticed. Her bangs extended down to her chin bone, but the rest didn't even go to the back of her neck. It was choppy, slightly boyish, and looked better on her than the long hair had.  
  
"Well, I came... to give you your book. And, um, maybe, for the sole sake of doing our project and absolutely nothing else, you could come over on Saturday to do our project and nothing else," he said, not realising how silly it sounded.  
  
Trinity bit her tongue to keep her from giggling. He was shy, obviously.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," she agreed and took the notebook. She usually would have felt happier..... but,..... she didn't know. The book didn't seem to matter as much any more. There was something else......  
  
"Collin!" called Natasha.  
  
"Gotta go, see ya!" he said, leaving her to go see his friends. But something was bothering him, something that he had just noticed. Why hadn't he thought of telling someone? He wondered that. Why not? Maybe because he had never seemed to be the type to let his feelings show, but still, why hadn't he?  
  
He knew he wouldn't. It just wasn't that way. But why was she out of school yesterday?  
  
What was going on? Why did he care?  
  
  
  
(*)= Lil is the author of 'The Begining of a Love Story'. Me n' her are internet chummies.  
  
And, yeah, a kinda tye-in chapter, but plenty of exciting things are to come! I'm expecting 3 or 4 more chapters in this part, but you never know, there might be more! OK, please read and review! 


	8. Gun Shy

Chapter 8  
  
Argh! WAAAAAHHHH!!!!! My boyfriend broke up with me. I'm kinda sad, but I'm getting on with it. Well, thanks to everyone who reviewed! Trinity's middle name is officially 'Hope.' I'm really getting over it, I really am..... WAH!!!  
  
Oh, Collin felt it was important to tell you he did not fill five garbage bags like I said in the last chapter. It was four garbage bags and thirteen Sobeys Bags. Oh, well.....  
  
Note to disclaimers: I don't own two cents. I don't own Mark. How could I own Harry Potter?  
  
This is dedicated to two different people. First of all, it is for my grampy. He died from the after-effects of World War II. I love him so much, I miss you Grampy.  
  
The second person is for Dumbledore, who died recently after making the Harry Potter movie. I know his name isn't Dumbledore, but that's how I'll remember him, so that's how I'll put him.  
  
-She liked seeing him. He comforted her, he made her feel like her life was more than misery. She was so unsure about love. She loved his eyes, his smile, his dtermination. But did she love him or hate him? Unsure of these emotions she had never felt before, she lay breathless pondering these first-time thoughts.  
  
"I don't know how to get to your house," Trinity whispered into the phone. She was going to Collin's house! For the project, yes, but, she was still going over to Collin's house!  
  
"Hey, I know, I can.... uh... walk over and pick you up! You live just a few blocks away from the school......" he began.  
  
"I... don't live by the school any more," she said breathlessly. "But, that would be wonderful..."  
  
"Where do you live now?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"Apartment 12, on 54 Pine Drive," (not her real address) she replied carefully.  
  
"Great, I'll be over at eleven in the morning, bye," and he hung up.  
  
"Bye," Trinity whispered. She skipped off to her room.  
  
"He did?! You're going over to COLLIN's house?!"  
  
That was the reply all her friends cried out as she phoned them. She had told every person. Everyone she knew that she cared about, she had told. Everyone except one person........  
  
"Harry," she called and peeked into her room. He wasn't there just yet. She knew it. But she sat on the floor, waiting for him.  
  
In her new room she had a place to meet. Small though it was, she had set up a little rug, with two chairs facing each other on it. Behind it were a coupler of posters, a lamp, and a bookshelf she had made in sixth grade. It was a nice little sanctuary, to meet Harry in.  
  
She put a little bowl of candy in the center of the table and waited. She didn't like waiting for Harry, but she knew she was lucky to see him at all. He had to visit many people, and atleast she believed.  
  
She waited quite a bit more, but then had to go for supper. It was somewhat boring, Kraft Dinner, but they weren't rich. They had Kraft Dinner often now. There was no desert.  
  
"So," began her mother, "how was your day?"  
  
Trinity looked up.  
  
"I'm going over to a friend's house tomorrow," she said shyly. "They're coming to pick me up."  
  
Her mother looked at her in shock. She sputtered a bit, and her eyes opened so you could see the whites, wide and round. It was frightening, seeing her mother look so horrified. All the colour was drainned.  
  
"You told... someone... where we live?!" she stuttered.  
  
"Yeah," said Trinity, feeling like she had done something very wrong.  
  
"Trinity?! How could you?! Your father, he's not going to let us of the hook! We ran away from him, Trinity, he's angry! He might know where we are, tracking us! Trinity, that was such a foolish thing to do! Why did you do it, oh why?!" Ms. Angeloz broke into a fit of sobs.  
  
Trinity walked over to touch her mother, trying to help her come to sense. But he mother glared at her.  
  
"I'd like to be alone now," she said frostily.  
  
Trinity ran to her room, trying to hold in the tears. How could she have been so stupid? To do something like that! She had angered her mother, frightened her. What was she to do? She wasn't sure what was right or wrong any more. It was just madness, that he could control their every motion, never feeling safe!  
  
She burst into her room, and looked around. Where was her cookie that she had left their before? Still remaining from Halloween, she had left it there, on the floor. She glanced over. "Harry," she smiled. He was there.  
  
He looked up and smiled at her, an almost guilty smile, brushing crumbs off his chin. She managed a small laugh. The smile vanished. He looked concerned.  
  
"Collin invited me over," she told him. He pretended to look surprised. Hadn't he been there, watching Collin turn beet-red as he picked up the phone.  
  
"He's coming to pick me up, but..." her voice trailed off. "I gave him my address."  
  
Harry had seen the exchange between her and her mother, but he was there to listen, not to interrupt. He still wanted to hear her say what she had to say. Get the load off her chest. Hear her side of it.  
  
He looked at her in fake-puzzlement.  
  
"You see, Mom thinks Dad is trying to get even with us, I don't doubt that, but she got so mad! I just dunno why..... she's so stressed... probably because she's so nervous. She's so nervous because....." she stopped, and then breathed. "Me."  
  
She saw it now. Her mother was afraid for her. Scared he would harm her. That was all she cared about. Her duty as a mother. Her duty to Trinity. The unspoken truth. Trinity.  
  
Harry didn't need to hear her explination. He knew why she was so upset. He understood. Once again he wished he could take something away from her, like her guilt, or fear. Why was all this dished to her? Why?  
  
The name Trinity means 'Three in one'. It was meant to be religiously, meaning God, Jesus, and The Holy Spirit. But really, it was a suitable name for her. There were three Trinities in one body; there was the silent Trinity at school. Then there was the Trinity trying to have fun with her friend. But the real Trinity was never showed to anyone. Three Trinities, one body. A very suitable name.  
  
Maria Angeloz had saved her daughter's life by leaving her husband. She would probably never know, but she had. Some acts of courage are unspeakable. No power was stronger than a parent's love for their child, if they truely loved.  
  
The night they left......  
  
Ted Poirier came home, after spending their Christmas bonus on beer. He was drunk, yes, but he wanted to do something. He despised Trinity. He hated everything about the stupid little child. Maria cared more about her than him. He wanted her dead.  
  
He creeped over, pulling a small section of the wall out. He rumbled around, searching for his gun. It was there. He used to hunt, but this would be a different version. He had never done this before.  
  
He removed it, chuckling slightly as he admired the shiny black metal part. Creeping towards the brat's room, he positioned it. He saw her, buried under her covers. He loaded, carefully positioning, and, BANG! He blew it.  
  
He ran over, trying to make it look like an accident, falling off the window onto a pointed stick or something. Dumping her outside. He expected to hear Maria running, to see what happened. He snatched back the covers.  
  
"Pillows!" he roared, looking at the mess of feather falling in his face. "Pillows!"  
  
He ripped the blankets, shouting, "Maria! Maria!"  
  
She didn't come. Maria had left him. He wanted revenge.  
  
"Hello? Mrs. Poirier? This is Collin Jackson, coming to pick up Trinity," Collin knocked and tried to speak into the door. It opened.  
  
"Mom isn't home, I'm the only one here," she giggled.  
  
Collin stared at her. The haircut was cute. She looked pretty. So much shorter and skinnier than anyone else, but pretty.  
  
"I'll just be in my room for a minute," she smiled shyly. He followed her.  
  
As she put on her socks and a jacket, he helped himself to a couple of the candies. He inspected his jacket.  
  
"You don't have your poppy yet," she said. (*)  
  
"So?" he asked.  
  
"It's only a couple days until Remembrance Day," she noted.  
  
"We don't even know what war really means," he said, trying to sound impressive.  
  
"That's why we wear poppies, to celebrate the fact we don't know what they mean. I'm glad I don't," she replied.  
  
He remained speechless, amazed at the power of a few words. It was then he realized how different he was.  
  
(*)= Poppies, you know, those little flower things. We (yeah, those weird Canadians) wear little felt ones on our jackets to mark our respect for the veterans of war. Remembrance Day is almost exactly like Veterans Day and is even on the same day.  
  
  
  
OK, how'd you like it? Please read n' review! (Du-a-ba-da-ba!) 


	9. A Different Sort of 'Real'

Chapter 9  
  
Wow, nine chapters..... WOW! I never thought Trinity's story would be very good, and I never thought I'd reach this point. I'd like to thank all my reviewers, my internet chummies, my MSN buddies, you've all helped. Ferggirl99, Lil, Delorfirith, thanks for reviewing! Thanks for everyone who ever reviewed my chapter! I'm so glad I'm away from Mark now.  
  
And yes, Dumbledore did die. Therefore, he will have to be replaced. I think the guy who plays Gandalf in LOTR would be good, but I dunno...  
  
And two.... YES, TRINITY'S DAD WANTED TO SHOOT HIS DAUGHTER! But here's the thing... he THINKS he shot the gun, but remember, he's drunk, so we're not sure if he actually did. We think he did, due to the fact he says he did. (This chappie!) But we're not sure.  
  
Note to disclaimers: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter. Not this.  
  
-Cold was good. Wind and rain were happiness. Rain washed away the sorrow, cleansing you, cleaning you anew. Wind dried you free. It covered you with protection, whipping across your face. It felt pain, but all recoveries were painful. They reminded you that life would have these things, but if you held on, you would make it. If you had faith, it would come, If you had nothing, you had something. If you had nothing, you had only Hope.-  
  
It was a cold day, especially for November. There was snow, so early in the year. The old streets of Historic Properties were frosty and bus loads of tourists were wandering around, wondering why they hadn't brought warmer sweaters. It was always tourist season. All the cruise ships stopped there regularily. But even in the cold and breeze, there was warmth. Mothers went "Awww... how sweet." and smiled. For there were Trinity and Collin, walking along those very streets of quaint cafes and gift shops, little chocolate factories and boutiques.  
  
He was VERY tall, almost towering above adults and grade nines. Well, not that tall, but close. Trinity was so skinny and shorter, she looked the height of a grade five or sixer. Her choppy, short hair blew along in the wind, but she liked it.  
  
"Brr..." she said. It was so cold.  
  
"I know," he said, "It's cold, isn't it?"  
  
"I'll say," but she warmed up immidiately due to her blushing frenzy. That followed. Because, you see, they were walking so close they were practically leaning against each other.  
  
"Want it?" he asked, and handed her his scarf.  
  
Triniy was lost for a moment. She wanted the scarf, for two reasons, one, for the cold, and two, for the fact it was Collin's but it just wasn't... normal. She had never, ever, ever loved a boy. Once her father, but she didn't remember. Besides, her father was not a boy, but a man. And, it was different to love someone who was, well, related, and not someone who you would LIKE to be related too!  
  
"Sure," she said, and instantly, she felt warmer. And it wasn't all the scarf, despite the fact Granny had done a plenty good job on it.  
  
They walked further and further away along the historic properties until Trinity hardly reconised the place where she was. The shops were all the same stone lines and the cobblestone streets led on and on. The tourist- attracting horses galloped away, hooves clacking. The mist covering the harbour crept it's way to Trinity's nose. She pulled the scarf up.  
  
"The food in there is good, isn't it?" Collin said slyly. The trap. The play. So perfect. He knew she hadn't.  
  
"I don't know, I've never been there," she replied, and not to Collin's surprise.  
  
"Well, do you want to try some?" he asked. The trap was set on a firm foundation.  
  
Trinity looked at the good food and drink, hot with steam rising. Freshly baked. And there were people chatting, having a good time. It looked warm. The smell of cinnamon and chocolate whafted in the air. The trap was almost closed.  
  
"Sure."  
  
BOOM! The trap was sprung.  
  
Collin grabbed her hand and almost pulled her across the street before she could even say a word. A snowball fell. Collin looked up. It was the kid, Harry. But there was a red-head guy with him. With a long scarf. And a little owl. They were sitting on the roof of the cafe, legs hanging over the side, occasionally dropping snow on the customers' heads. A little 'Ow!' was heard as the ice pellets hit them, but other than that, no one payed any attention to two odd boys sitting on the roof-top. They looked back down at him grinning, Harry especially.  
  
"Nice one, Collin," Harry laughed. "You should try that one on Hermione, Ron."  
  
Ron blushed and protested, "I don't like her. Try it on Cho!"  
  
That prompted a full-fledge snowball war, and Collin rolled his eyes at the silly boys. He knew who they were. People, like angels. Things to help. But why he had come up to this point he did not know. Sure, he wouldn't throw a bible out, but religious just wasn't a word to describe him. He rolled his eyes again. Like he was smarter. Yeah, right.  
  
They walked up the rock step carefully, as the were slippery with ice. Was that the reason Trinity hadn't let go of Collin's hand yet? Probably not, but a minor one, and a good excuse, which were both very important. Reasons and excuses were always important.  
  
It was a real cafe. The stools and tables were very high, with a little basket of napkins and vase of flowers on each. The walls were a clean deep red, with white picture frames displaying various photos of food and flowers. The tall chairs that matched the table were black swirling posts of metal, very fancy and well decorated, like vines were creeping up and about to grab your feet. Their pillow was white and red ghigham (white/red pladish fabric) and the table cloth, bottom criss-crossed was the same.  
  
Collin had no trouble getting up into the chair, but Trinity had to climb up it like a ladder. He stiffled a laugh as he saw her struggling to get up, and it came out like a crow choking. Trinity smiled shyly and blushed hard, yet again, for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour, or less.  
  
"Hello," a female waitress, young but very stlylish approached them. She placed a menu infront of each person and walked off, though it looked more like she was sliding.  
  
Trinity tried to focus on the menu. If, perhaps, she had read a book on the subject of being in a cafe with the boy you liked, she would have known to perhaps be brave and make eye contact, but very unfortunately, she hadn't read any manuel or book, or even magazine, so she tried to focus on questions such as 'How am I going to pay?' 'What should I order?' and 'How did I manage to get this far?!'  
  
"What do you want?" Collin asked, looking into her eyes very deeply. The blush got redder.  
  
"I.... I don't have any money," she stammered.  
  
He laughed.  
  
"It's on me," he grinned.  
  
"No, it's just... not right. I get allowance, well, I got allowance..... but I babysit so I can pay for myself!" she protested independantly.  
  
"With no money?" he asked, a trace of a smirk on his face.  
  
"I'll pay you back," she said after a moment, glumly defeated. Again, if she had read the book, she would have realised that it was because he liked her, and not out of charity, that he was doing this.  
  
The waitress came back again, five minutes later.  
  
"Have you decided?" asked queried.  
  
"Two hot chocolates..." Collin began and carried on, mentioning every detail and edge of the order.  
  
Trinity looked away. But... over in the corner.... there it was. Three people. Ones she knew well.  
  
"Harry," she whispered. And of course, Ron and Hermione. She heard laughter, and saw Hagrid and co. getting drunk, and a waitrees, of course, Madame Rosemerta. She began to feel slightly dizzy, but realized no one else noticed.  
  
Collin had finnished ordering. There were a couple moments of silence but then....  
  
"So," he began, trying to be bold.  
  
"Yeah," she replied shyly.  
  
"Wazzup,"  
  
"Nothing much,"  
  
"What did you do last night?"  
  
Somehow, 'Slept comfortably without my father for the first time in ages' seemed a little too risky as a reply, after her mother had gone balistic over the address, so she replied, "Watched a little TV."  
  
"Anything good on?"  
  
"Not really,"  
  
"Why did you change your phone number?"  
  
"We just did," Trinity bit her lip.  
  
"Can you write it down in my agenda?" he handed it to her.  
  
She thought of what her mother would say. But then she knew he would never know. And besides, this was what she had dreamed of. Didn't dreams matter most?  
  
"Sure," she said smiling and wrote it down on the front page.  
  
And so the small talk went on. And on. And on. And on. Plenty to say. Nothing they would admit. Saying and thinking are very different. Collin wanted to say, "You look really nice." but he gave the much less dramatic, "I found your journal."  
  
What Trinity wanted to say was "You're my first crush." but what she said was, "Thank you."  
  
What Collin wanted to do was hug her, but what he did was hand her the journal. But, for once, one was brave. Collin leaned over, lips ready and everything. Trinity came towards him and suddenly....  
  
"Your food is here."  
  
They both immidiately drew back and studied their dishes, pretending to be very intrested in them as the waitress, who had no idea what she had interrupt, placed them on the table.  
  
"Why do you write?" Collin asked once she had left.  
  
Trinity glared sharply.  
  
"You didn't read it, did you?" she whispered viciously.  
  
"Uh.... no," Collin lied. He lied a lot, but this was different. He cared about Trinity, not that he didn't care about his parents, but it just wasn't the same.  
  
Trinity loosened up a bit.  
  
"I'm glad you found it, I was looking for it,in the meanwhile, I had to use looseleaf, which just doesn't keep secrets as well," she thanked him.  
  
"But why do you write?" he repeated.  
  
She stared at him blankly.  
  
"Why do you play basketball?" she asked.  
  
"Because I like it, I'm good at it," he replied.  
  
"Exactly," Trinity said, a slight prim cough in her voice.  
  
"But..... it's just writing. It's not exciting... or fun...." he wrinkled his nose.  
  
"Would you believe that even though I'm sitting here, I'm not here," she asked in a whisper.  
  
"No," replied Collin.  
  
"Why?" she asked. It seemed to be a simple enough question, but he had a feeling the answer was complicated.  
  
"Because.... I can see you, you're here. The pillow is down under you. You are solid. I can hear you. If I wanted to, I could reach out and touch you," he replied as best he could.  
  
"But, what if I'm not hear? What if I didn't see with my eyes, but with my head? What if I am here, but at the same time, I am sitting by a waterfall. The rock I am sitting on is large and gray, and beside it there are a few green ferns. Above me there are vines falling, going down. They brush on top of my head. There are large, pink flowers next to the ferns. The ground is slightly grassy and moist. The pool under the waterfall is shallow, and I can see the rocky bottom. The rocks are pale gray, light and flat, covered in algue so you could slide on them. I am atleast five meters (sorry, I can't do feet) above the water.... " Trinity began. (There is more to her description but it goes on for three pages and half of her writing I cannot read.)  
  
"Do you see where I am?" she asked.  
  
Collin nodded. He saw everything. From the gibbon in the tree to the large lilies. But gibbon? He was sure Trinity hadn't mentioned a gibbon. Where had it come from. Then he realised it. The place was REAL. Yes, there were probably a million places like it, but this was real in it's own fake way. It was real. Like Harry and Ron. Like Hermione and Hagrid. And Madame Rosemerta. Real.  
  
It was a magic. Better than a wand or a unicorn, but pure magic. The magic to see what wasn't, to know the fake, to believe. To believe that life was beautiful. To accept everything you were given. To know you chose your destiny.  
  
They finnished their meals. Collin payed, but Trinity hadn't forgotten.  
  
"I'll pay you back," she promised fiercly.  
  
As they walked back, Collin saw them. There, Dumbledor and MacGonaglal, in the window of the book store. Proffesor MacGonagal was saying something vainly, and dumbledor was laughing. Hagrid was plowing his motorcycle threw the calm streets. Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were having a snowball fight. Hermione and Ginny were chatting and laughing, while examining their purchases. Malfroy, Crabbe, and Goyle were plotting evily in the corner. And the best was, they were real. Real to the heart. The best type of real ever.  
  
"Good-bye!" Collin waved to Trinity.  
  
"Bye!" she waved back.  
  
And as Collin walked home, he realised that they didn't do anything as they had planned. The project hadn't even been started.  
  
He got home and decided to maybe begin it. He looked threw his bag for his agenda with all the notes. It wasn't there.  
  
"Oh (bleep)," he cursed. "Must 'ave left it in the cafe.... oh well, I'll get it tommorrow!" And then, as most males do, he went to sleep, and didn't even bother to research.  
  
He was tired. Ted Poirier had looked everywhere for the stupid wife and kid. If he couldn't have them, no one could. He wouldn't let them get away, not with this! He decided to stop for a coffee in a little restauraunt.  
  
He ordered it, and then plopped into one of the fancy chairs. On the table, something caught his eye. A little book, with a shiny cover. It had a list ofthings on the inside. Home phone number, Jim's phone number. Granny's. Poppa and Nanna's. Mom's work. Dad's work. Uncle Jake's house. But one thing caught his eye. In hasty writing, it read: 'Trinity's new #: 555-3455'. His search was over.  
  
Collin was at home that night. The telephone rung. He cursed a bit, for it waking him, and then decided to actually pick it up. The amount of effort it took to move was enormous, but suddenly he felt strong enough to do it.  
  
"'lo?" he asked the phone.  
  
"555-3455! Thanks, boy! Hahahahaha (cough cough) hahahaha (burp) haha!" a raspy, drunken voice shouted.  
  
"What are you on?" asked Collin and hung up the phone. He hadn't noticed whose number it was. He just went back to sleep.  
  
It was late. Trinity entered appartment. No one was home. Her mother was out on late shift on her new job. Long, bad hours, mininmum wage. What could be better? But atleast it was honest work, and it was better than nothing.  
  
She looked to see there was a message on the phone. She picked it up, and dialed in the password.  
  
"You have: one-new-message," it bleeped. Trinity pressed star (*).  
  
"Hahahaha...... you thought you could hide.... smart..... I shot our girl Maria..... well, atleast I almost did until you thieved her! I thought you were able, Maria! But be like that, it's like hunter and prey, and you're wearing orange on a white paper!" the raspy, drunken, familiar voice rang out.  
  
Trinity deleted it, heart filled with terror. She ran to her room and started to sob. He had found them.  
  
"Harry!" she cried.  
  
  
  
OK.... So, I did some different stuff in that chapter. Did you like it? Do tell! I like constructive critisism. And also, this is probably the third last chapter in the first part. But the last chapter is some basic info.... like a really long author's note explaining about Trinity and her life living threw the abuse..... you'll get it when you see it. If you have any questions, please ask and I'll answer them. And also, if you were gonna addopt a little girl from a foreign country, what would her name be and where would she be from? Just wanna know.... it's coming up, kinda. So are the spoilers. Does anyone read author notes? I dunno.... we'll see! 


	10. The Veil is Lifted!

Chapter 10  
  
Hi. The next chapter will answer ANY questions you have, and it will also tell a couple of things I forgot to explain, plus a bit of history on maria, so please feel free to ask anything. This will probably be the last chapter, aside from the one I just mentioned. Part two, here we come!  
  
To disclaimers: Bonjour, je suis Angel. Je ne owner pas. Ain't mon Francais tres good? Hee hee...  
  
-People aren't always what they want to be, so when they try to be that way, they always seem to screw everything they had up, when they were perfect enough as they could be before. Why people want to do that confuses me, it's just incomprehendable. Why make a good thing better, when it turns out worse? And why don't (or can't) they go back afterwards? Somethings I don't get, or will never understand. Nor will I ever want to do.-  
  
Trinity ran to school the next day, full of fear. It was horrible, she wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't tell her mother, she didn't want to frighten her. But she was frightened to death herself. Still, after all the trouble, her mother mustn't know. After all, it was her mother who had suffered the most abuse, emotional and physical.  
  
"Hey hey hey," Collin grinned as he saw her enter the school grounds. He opened his arms, but she just passed him by, dark and cold. Scared and afraid.  
  
"Hi," she called back grimly.  
  
"Oooo kay," he thought, trying to process this. Hm... abuse. She must still be recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering.  
  
"Collin?" a sharp, clear voice rang out.  
  
"Uh..., yeah?" he asked cluelessly, coming out of his trance in ' It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering.'s  
  
"Yo, Collin,"  
  
"Hey,"  
  
"Sup?"  
  
People began to come around. Old 'friends'. He wasn't sure anymore. Natasha? (Remeber, from the second chapter.) Zakarai? Chuck? Bradly? Malorie? They just didn't seem like friends anymore. Who were friends, people that hung out because you were popular, or people who... who... there wasn't a word to describe the kinda friend Trinity was. Brave. Calm. Quiet. Caring. Loyal. All together and a whole lot more, which would be: bravecalmquietcaringloyalalltogetherandawholelotmore. Not much of a moving, descriptive word. Huh. You couldn't even find it in Webster's. Stupid dictionary. How can you look up a word when you don't know what to begin with?  
  
"Hi Collin," Natasha grinned as she saw Collin snap into himself.  
  
"Hi," he grinned a phony grin.  
  
(Author's note: You're gonna hate me for what happens next, but I swear, IT'S NOT MY FAULT!)  
  
She pushed herself flirtatiously into his arms. He held her, debating the pros and cons of pushing away.  
  
Pros: he would be happier. He didn't want to hold her.  
  
Cons: Everyone would wonder why, and he might let slip that he liked Trinity.  
  
Trinity. Dangit, everything led to Trinity. Trinity this, Trinity that. And yet.... he liked her. Even though she was in her corner, staring at the ground, off in space, not responding to her friends. Trinity, the calm and sincere, yet could break a thousand windows with a glance. Trinity.  
  
'I don't care about her,' thought Collin, lying. 'I hate her. She hates me. She ignored me this morning. I hate her. Stupid, damn, Trinity. I don't need her. I could have Natasha. She's better. More popular. Socially acceptable. Better.'  
  
The problem with lying to yourself is that you never believe it. You can lie to others and sometimes they might believe it, but since you are both people, the other side of your brain never believes it. But in this case, that is not a problem. That is good. Because if Collin had believed his lie, he might have spent the rest of his life with Natasha, getting married, having kids and.... URGH! That is not a pleasant thought.  
  
He continued holding Natasha until the bell rung. Lie, lie lie. He destested it. Every friggin second he held her. Lie, lie lie. Eventually they got separated. Thank God.  
  
He saw Trinity again in the rush.  
  
"Hi," he grinned and made a stupid face.  
  
Not even a smile.  
  
"Hi," she whispered softly in return and then got lost again in the rush of students trying to find their locker and other oh-so-more-important- than-Trinity-and-Collin's-lovelife things.  
  
She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering. It wasn't that she hated him. She was just still recovering............  
  
Math was very boring. Underline very. Now put it in itallics. And Bold it. And capslock it. And add a million exclamation points. And make it size one- million font. There, you get it? Hip hip hooray, adding fractions. Didn't they learn it at the begining of grade five? Wasn't grades five and six enough? Why make the torture last until grade seven? Why, why why?  
  
Actually, maybe it was a good thing. Because the teacher was so busy telling other people of for not paying attention, that she didn't notice the five-billion notes Collin threw at Trinity's head. She didn't even look back. It became a game. He sat dead behind her. Five points if it landed in the hood. Ten if it hit her hair. Twenty if it hit the crown. A thousand if she turned around. A million if she read it. His score was 345. By the end of math class, it was 880. Collin had pretty good aim.  
  
In English, they sat so far apart that they had no way of communicating. Normally they would've worked on the project. But today they had a 'special' assignment. So Collin stopped attempting notes and was forced to work on a story about Larry the Goldfish.  
  
Larry the Goldfish  
  
By Collin Jackson  
  
One day Larry the goldfish got up in the morning. His life was so damn boring that he decided to put Collin out of his misery and commit suicide. But Larry didn't want an ordinary suicide, he wanted a suicidal bombing. So he bombed the school which was unusually deserted except for Trinity and the English teacher.  
  
"No!" cried Collin. "Not Trinity!"  
  
But goldfishes have stupid, small brains so Larry kept on bombing. Then heroic Collin rushed in to save people.  
  
"Save me!" cried Trinity.  
  
"Save me!" cried the English Teacher.  
  
"F*** you!" Collin yelled to the English teacher, who died as he saved Trinity, who was so happy she kissed him and they got married and lived happily ever after.  
  
THE END.  
  
(Author's Note: What a touching story. For some reason, Collin didn't hand it in, though!)  
  
Period after period of Trinity ignoring him, or just not noticing him, actually, it was finally lunch. Lunch happened to be one of Collin's favourite subjects. Weekends were his first favourite. Second was end of the day. Third was lunch. Fourth was gym. But for now it was lunch.  
  
People gathered around in their normal groups. Trinity, who usually walked home, stayed. Odd. But Collin knew that somewhere up there, his angel was telling him this was his chance, so he walked up to Trinity, nervous but confident, a very weird mixture.  
  
"Hi," he said. She looked down.  
  
"Hi,"  
  
"Well, 'sup?" he asked, confidence s-l-o-w-l-y going down the drain of life.  
  
She just kept on looking to the ground.  
  
"Omigosh! Will you friggin' say something? I'm sorry for whatever I friggin' did?! Will you just talk! I'm sorry! I don't know! Why are you not saying anything?!" he cried.  
  
Trinity looked up at him, glaring, eyes red and bright, ferocious. Angry and mad, something he had never seen her be.  
  
"You don't even know why I'm sad!" she snapped, looking at him straight in the eye. "You don't even know! Have you ever seen someone beating up someone you love?! Have you ever been stalked, and afraid of life?! Have you ever even cared?! Have you ever even thought?! Have you ever walked into your house, wondering if you'll find your mother on the floor next to a drunken idiot? Have you ever been considered 'tainted in childhood'?! Have you, Collin?! HAVE YOU?!!!"  
  
Her voice was rising up in a fury, like a storm. Then it turned silkily, low, dangerously soft in a whisper.  
  
"I have a right to be sad. I am a human, and I am really fed-up, scared, and sad!" she whispered in the same tone.  
  
Collin sputtered at the sudden outburst of emotion. Trinity had never really had emotions before. Shy, grinning, lonely, yes, he had seen those, but.... this wasn't her. He struggled to reply.  
  
"Well, if you'd stop feeling so sorry for yourself, than maybe you'd just look up and see that some people love you, it's not my fault your father doesn't!" was what came out.  
  
Her mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish without water. She hadn't understood that he said he himself loved her. It hadn't come out that way.  
  
"Why do you always pretend to be someone you're not, like you're all that?! Lift the veil please," she said in rage.  
  
"Lift the veil? Lift the veil?! What the hell does that mean?!" he said angrily.  
  
"It means I'm fed up of you hiding who you really are, and it's like there is a veil all over your body, like a burqa. Like you're too afaraid of everyone's else's opignion to really be the person you are. Can't you just let all that other stuff fall, please?" her voice wasn't angry anymore, but small and pleading.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, and truly felt bad.  
  
She looked up at him.  
  
He hugged her.  
  
"Let go!" she cried. She HATED to be touched. It reminded her so much of everything! Every time she was touched by someone, other than her mother, it reminded her that other people's father's hugged them all the time. All the time. And she always felt like someone would hurt her. Every touch hurt. Her father used to love her mother, and he'd hug her all the time, but now he wanted to... kill them.  
  
"Let go of me!" she cried again.  
  
Then, suddenly, quick and hard, she broke free and punched him. He lost balance and fell in the soft snow. No damage had been done, but Trinity felt her heart rise and sink at the same time. She had used violence, yet it felt good.  
  
She remembered what her mother had told her.  
  
"Trinity, if anyone ever touches you and it makes you feel uncomfortable, then you kick, you scream, you punch! No one has the right to touch you if you don't like it! No one!" the words wavered across her mind.  
  
"Yes, Mama," she, only eight, had promised.  
  
These words came rushing back at her, and she felt content. Suddenly, crowds of people came around to see Collin, getting up from the ground. Natasha was the first to scream. "Get away from him, you fag. What the hell?"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Bitch!"  
  
"Jackass!"  
  
Trinity ran to the furthest corner of the school. Just because Collin was popular. If it had been a different fight, they wouldn't be saying that, but just because it was Collin. She found her place by the forrest, and sat, sobbing. One familiar name rolled off her tongue.  
  
"Why is the world against me, Harry?"  
  
But Harry was not there.  
  
  
  
  
  
OK! END OF PART ONE!!! Do you think next chapter should be what I described above, or just a normal chapter. PLEASE DO TELL AND ASK QUESTIONS!!! I'd love to reply to them. The next two chapters will be... different. That's all I can say.  
  
QUESTION: Does anyone read author's notes at the top and bottom of the page?  
  
See that button... the one called 'review'. It's magical. Press it and people all over the world will be ve-ry happy! 


	11. Some Hero from Beyond Compare

Chapter 11  
  
I'm going to talk about a hero who was somewhat ignored, but deserves so much praise. Guesss who? Not Larry the goldfish, but Maria. She saved her daughter's life and put up with a lot of things. Maria, thank you so much. This is your chapter. Oh, and instead of part of Trinity's book, I'm putting a e-mail from Trinity at the begining. Trinity and Collin aren't their real names. No names are real. Hope you don't mind.  
  
Note to diclaimers: me no own.  
  
Hi Angel,  
  
I just read the tenth chapter. I must clarify, I DID NOT PUNCH "COLLIN" THAT HARD!!! Huh, seems funny calling him Collin. Besides, he was being a jerk, kinda. Well, that's just stupid to write a whole and complete e-mail arguing over the past. So I'll continue.  
  
I don't really post reviews, since you asked me not to, I can kinda understand why, but I still read them. Somethings they say are true. Yes, Delorfirith, my dad was an asshole. Nice name. Why did I punch Collin, Lil? See above. And for all, thanks for reading about me!  
  
Don't even think about showing someone this.  
  
Yours truly,  
  
"Trinity" (Hee hee... I like that name better than my own!)  
  
Maria Angeloz was tired, sad, and somewhat fed up. Job interviews, she hated them. She hadn't had a job since Trinity was born. Somehow, 'housewife' didn't sound to impressive on a resume. She hated this, hardly having enough for rent. She had her savings account. And the money Trinity had saved. And Colledge Education money. She tried to erase those thoughts from her mind. She hated the idea of taking money from Trinity, though she had offered it so freely, and she hated the idea of accepting it. Trinity shouldn't have to be saving money for food instead of clothes or skiis or somthing kiddish. Even more, she hatedthe idea of taking money from Trinity's education. She hadn't had a very good one herself.  
  
  
  
"Maria, Maria, why do you turn down the money?" Mrs. Angeloz cried, looking at her stubborn daughter, eyes hard but face soft.  
  
It wasn't the best of times for the Angeloz household. They were poor.Mr. Angeloz had been injured and was currently out of work. It was hard to find work for a injured man who was new to the country, not even having a true citizenship yet. And their youngest daughter Maria was just about to graduate. She had to go to colledge. Her mother wanted it that way. She had never gotten past grade five. She wanted her only daughter to be different. Mother of six others (boys), she was a devoting mother. She had always spoiled Maria a bit, being the girl, but now the daughter was rising against it. All her other sons had education from back in Spain, but Maria was refusing.  
  
She wanted to take her, her father, and her mother back to Spain. They were rich in Spain. Not millionaires, but better off. Now they were poor, with her father's new-found disability. She couldn't tyake the money. She couldn't leave her parents. She couldn't. If she left them, what would happen? She was the only one working, her part-time job as a waitress. If she took the money her parents would have nothing left. Life was such bitter decisions.  
  
Small tricklets of tears ran down her cheeks. She missed her dead parents, and her brothers back in Spain. Bitter memories flooded in. Bitter but sweet. They weren't well, but they had been happy. And yet, she could relate to her mother. Family came first. Over all money, friendships, power, health, time, behavior, and suffering, family came first. Those who believed by that were part of it. Those who didn't, though related, weren't.  
  
"You look perfect," her mother gasped.  
  
A girl, in the middle of her twenties, looked down at her crisp white dress, bouquet of flowers at hand. She twirled around in the mirror, like a fairy-tale princess. Her hair shook as she laughed at how perfect everything was turning out. Her parents were no longer poor. Everything had worked out. Everything. She was about to get married.  
  
A man, in his thirties, stepped in. He wore a navy uniform and looked at the two women in happiness. Maria looked over and shrieked, running towards him.  
  
"Martin!" she gasped. "Oh, Martin, you made it! All the way from Spain, and you made it!"  
  
"I brought my family, too," he smiled.  
  
A woman grinned and walked in the room, followed by a young boy and a toddler.  
  
"Juanita! Marrin! Constanza! Oh, i'm thrilled to see you all! Thrilled!"  
  
She immidaitely started playing with her young nephew and niece, while talking to Juanita Angeloz, her youngest brother's new wife.  
  
"It's almost time," her father came in and whispered.  
  
Maria got up and straightened her hair. It was her day, it was her time.  
  
Yet another memory, so many tears, so much laughter. How could something so perfect have gone so wrong? She never would have imagined abuse. It was in movies, not for real. It was too much.  
  
Shopping. She had to take her mind off it somehow. Shopping, Trinity needed some new clothes. That's why she was down here in the first place. Shopping. Shopping. No abuse. Shopping. Shopping. It made an odd chant, circling and singing in her mind.  
  
First Maria entered a clothing store she had neve seen. It was getting cold, and all the clothes Trinity had brought were summer-y, or too worn out to wear. There, in the display window, was a mannequin sporting a very stylish shirt and jeans. Maria looked up at it longingly. It looked like something Trinity would wear.  
  
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked from the desk. Maria looked around.  
  
"No thank you," she replied.  
  
She stole a glance up a the top and filched. A price tag hung loose, with a large sum of money clearly etched on it in big writing. Small to someone else, large to Maria. She could never afford it with their budget. Never in a million years. And yet she looked up at it, hoping that some angel would come out of the sky and hand the outfit to her.  
  
Suddenly, a young girl named Angel did exactly that.  
  
"Who are you?" asked Maria.  
  
"I'm the author of this story," said the Angel.  
  
I really wish I could have done that. I really do. But as author I am somewhat obliged to tell the somewhat truth, and the truth is I didn't even know this was happening at the time.  
  
Maria walked from the store, sad and alone. She hurried into the second hand one next to it, and tried to pick some reasonable outfit. But all the clothes were ugly, summer clothes, or unreparably torn. She had managed to pick up some socially acceptable sweaters and jeans, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt. It was unbearable.  
  
It was cold, and Maria found herself wandering around, wondering where to go. The wind whipped her and lashed her, and she ran for cover in towards the closest shop. She opened the door and entered, reading the name.  
  
Toule's Books  
  
Trinity loved to read. Maria remembered handing her a book, about a year ago. She had looked at it, then read the first chapter. "Mom, I hate it," she said. "It's so Brittish and hard to understand."  
  
Then she read the next and went crazy. She loved it. It was her topic of conversation for day and night, and Maria had a feeling she dreamed of it.  
  
And there it was, the second book, the one Trinity had lived, breathed, and dreamed over.  
  
"As soon as the library says it's my turn with it, I'm gonna scream!" she said joyfully.  
  
Maria looked up at the book. The hardcover edition cost nineteen dollars plu tax. She hesitated, and then looked up at the book again with courage. She didn't care. It would only be about 21 dollars. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it. Trinity deserved it.  
  
She repeated it over and over in her mind as she bought it and put it in a bag. As the check-out lady smiled at her. As she walked from the shop.  
  
"Good job," said a kid in the street, with green eyes and messy black hair. He smiled at her, then walked away.  
  
Maria blinked a couple of times as she saw the boy walk threw a wall. What had happened? She blinked again. Perhaps she had just imagined it....  
  
  
  
  
  
Hi, I know, it was kinda short and kinda weird, but I just thought that it had to be told. Yea, kinda sucky, kinda lame, but it's just one of those things. Maria was a champion. Maria was a wonder-worker. Maria was a mother.  
  
The next chapter is part 2. It starts off kinda different, but you'll understand soon, I promise! 


	12. There are Others

Chapter 12  
  
Book two, chapter 1.  
  
This may not make sense now, but it will soon, in the next chapter, I promise!  
  
Note to disclaimers: Me no own.  
  
Saini covered her younger brother, Mohan, protectively. She was curled up in a corner of a building, somewhere along the streets of India. It wasn't safe, but Saini was swift and careful. Not much of a reasurrance, not much at all, but all that mattered was they weren't caught yet.  
  
It was too dangerous living in India, ever since her mother and father passed away. Her father had went away once, but had never returned. Saini's mother, Parvati, had gone into a state of depression. It didn't help that they had no place to live, no relatives to go to, and virtually nothing. Parvati hated going into prostitution, but it was the only way she could raise money for her two small children. It embarrased her, and she felt that this would greatly affect Saini's future. She feared that Saini might allow men to abuse her, and force into marriage, like legalized rape. She was lucky. Parvati herself had found a loving mate, and even though he was in charge, Sudhir was never rude or abusive. He was a wonderful father, a caring husband, and a pleasure each day. Saini remembered her mother in the bedroom, one day after Sudhir died.  
  
"This isn't how I wanted life to turn out," Parvati dried the tears she didn't know Saini had seen.  
  
Saini looked up into the brown eyes of her mother, not sure of what to say. She hadn't wanted it this way either. She wanted her dady back. It wasn't fair that he had gone away. Where was he?  
  
One day, Saini walked home from the market. It was dangerous, but Parvati was at "work" and they needed food. This was Saini's secret. She would never let her mother know she had gone somewhere alone. Only a child, and a girl child. It wasn't safe, no matter how young, there were crazies, who raped. Saini shuddered at the thought of being pregnant without a husband.  
  
She approached the door to their tiny appartement that her mother had gotten with the 'dirty' money. That's what she had called it, because she hated it, but needed it. Forcing herself to do grotesque things for it.  
  
She heard two men talking to each other inside it. Saini froze, why were there men in there? Hadn't Mommy's man just been leaving? Their voices were low and gruff.  
  
"It must have been a knife, look at the blood. There's even a slit mark in her body,"  
  
"She have any family?"  
  
"Na, no husband, two kids. They aren't here though. Don't know where the rascals are."  
  
Saini didn't want to hear anymore. She had heard enough. Her mother was dead.  
  
It had taken her a year to find her last relative, but she had never found her real brother back. Mohan was her blood-brother, but he wasn't her spirit-brother. He had changed. He didn't laughed anymore, and whenever he looked at someone, he looked so tired and sad that it broke their hearts, too. Mohan had changed.  
  
But there were too many others like them. There were too many abused women and men, homeless, and children, searching. Things were being done, but there wasn't enough. Like giving food to one of twelve people. Like sparing change to one of a hundred beggars. Like caring about one in a million. Busy people passed carelessly, like they were too imporatant to care about certain little kids who didn't have their mothers anywhere.  
  
Saini had one friend in all this hurried confusion. She had sen a poster for him by the book store. She had only seen him that way once, when she was looking for Mohan. She didn't know why he had come to visit her, or why she saw him. All she knew was that he appeared a lot, whenever he wasn't busy. She supposed he had a lot of other kids to visit, to help.  
  
She remembered the first time she had saw him, his face on that poster.  
  
"He has a book written bout him? Huh, he must be important. Important and rich. Too important to care about me... just a little child, just another girl...." she smirked angrily. She hated rich and and important people.  
  
"But I'm not."  
  
It was a clear voice, but it was English. Not Indian, like she was used to. There were many English people where she was, but it shocked her to see on right infront of her. And what scared her most was it was a boy.  
  
Males couldn't be trusted. Her father and her brother were the only good ones. The officers had been mean, they hadn't cared. Males had probably killed her mother. Males had given her mother dirty money. Everyday her mother worried about the women being abused by males. They were bad.  
  
"Go away," she said ferociosly.  
  
He smiled.  
  
"I can help."  
  
In the city, not in India, but back in North America, a notebook blew it's pages about in the wind coming from the half-open window. If you had been able to read it, you would have seen this:  
  
MY DREAMS:  
  
-Current questions:  
  
-Why am I dreaming this?  
  
-How does he know them?  
  
-What does this mean?  
  
STORIES:  
  
-Anna lives in Germany. Her mother and father work a lot during the day and night. They don't spend as much time together as they'd all like to. But Anna always comes home to her grandfather. Last month he was diagnosed with cancer. Anna needs someone for comfort.  
  
Harry comes to her.  
  
-Marvin is thirteen, and lives in Spain with his Concheata (God-mother) ever since his parents died. He loves her dearly, and doesn't want to leave her, but now there are some misinterpretations with the will, and he might be taken away from her.  
  
Harry comes to him.  
  
-Mathew lives with his mother in New York. His father was arrested for illegal possesion of drugs and he spends time in prison as punnishement. Mathew is only seven years old, and doesn't understand completely why Daddy is never at home.  
  
Harry comes to him.  
  
-Ria lives in a poor ghetto comunity where there always seems to be trouble. She and her mother live alone, and there's always drugs, pregnancy, and police intervention worrying them. Her mother had her at age sixteen, and she has no idea where the father is. Ria's grandparents won't have anything to do with their daughter, and people always assume she's a drug dealer because her mother used to be a stripper. Ria feels sad and alone.  
  
And Harry comes to her.  
  
  
  
Hi, I know it was a short chapter, and I know you may not get it, but I hope you liked it. It will all make more sense soon. Merry Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanza, Ramazan! 


	13. When Time is of Your Own

Book two: Trials and Tribulations  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Well.... here is my explination with the last chapter. After this ever-so- important message:  
  
To the disclaimers: me no own.  
  
-Imagine being able to dream the dreams of someone else. You would feel their joy or help bear the grief of their pain. Perhaps just having someone dreaming the same dream as you would be a comfort. Perhaps it would be a burden, having someone looking into your head. But are dreams real, or just images of a tired head, mere hallucinations? Are some real, or just a mixing of the imagination? There must be some purpose behind them, that no one really knows....-  
  
Far away from India, in the notebook, was a untidy message scrawled by a girl named Trinity. A girl. Named Saini. Harry. Comes. To. Her.  
  
"Ah," a sigh of relief came to Trinity Hope Angeloz as she splashed water gently on her face. It was cool andfreezing, brining her from other's lives into her own. At a very appropriate time of one in the morning, she started to study herself in the mirror. The dream... it faded in her head. She tried to keep it, but it was too hard. It drained out, spiralling down. Luckily, she had taken a few short notes. She splahed a bit more water. It was Friday night. No, now Saturday morning. She groaned as she stubbed her toe on the toilet. She sputtered at it, and wanted to punch something.  
  
Punch.  
  
Punch.  
  
Punch.  
  
Suddenly, it all came back, though six months ago. In November, she had lost one of the most important things to her. Now it was April, and springy. She missed it, but she was too mistrusting, too shy to ask for it back. It wasn't something she could could just steal. It was a... friend. She blushed in a mixture of embarrasment and anger.  
  
"I thought we agreed, not to... think of him!" she hissed at no one but her reflection. Funny, she wasn't grinning evily... why was the girl in the mirror?  
  
"You know why you don't want to think of him," she grinned. "You know. Because you LOVE him, that's why."  
  
"I don't love him!" Trinity protested. "We're FRIENDS! Or we were, atleast. I don't love... Love just messes people up... like it did to Mom...."  
  
Her voice trailed off. Her mother. She was so stressed these days, she hardly ever smiled. Trinity worried about her. She worked almost 24 hours a day, hardly having time to do anything but. She used to sew, but now she never did. Never enough money, never enough time. But why had she done this? Because even though there was no money and no time, there could never be no love. Maria, not to Trinity's knowing, had often thought of an orphanage. But it was illegal because of her current status, and she could never dream of life without Trinity. It was one of the things that had kept her going. If it hadn't been for the one person who had stayed with her, she might have thought of suicide. It was love that made her need her, but it was also love that made her want to give her away into a better life. Yet she knew that giving her away would make Trinity even more secretive and mistrusting, so she couldn't.  
  
She splashed a bit more water. It helped her think clearly. She remebered the trial. It would be coming up soon. The divorce. Trinity knew she had to use the courage she had to get herself away from her father. Abuse would be forgotten. Her mother didn't want to mention it. It would create more trouble. She just want this to be in and out, with Trinity by her side. Her father would try to make himself look superior, like the better parent, but Trinity would not let this trick work. If they let her speak, she'd have her say. This was her moment. This was her time to be heroine. This time was hers.  
  
Suddenly, another face appeared in the mirror. Not the one on her bathroom wall. The one in her mind. This was time for change. For a new begining. For an appology. She owed it to him. Collin.  
  
His dirty blond hair and tanned skin wafted in her mind. This had been driving her crazy for all six months, right after the moment she had punched him. From the moment he had tried to touch her. She knew she had made a mistake. Insecurity did funny things to a troubled mind. She touched her stomach, and felt oddly queasy. She knew this would mean seeing Collin again. It couldn't be done by e-mail or MSN. She had to see him. It would be hard... but this was time for change.  
  
She glanced at the clock. It was one thirty-five. So, knowing she could never get a wink of sleep, she brang her notebook out to the balcony and sat there, writing, loooking at the stars. The city was quiet and peaceful. She heard someone snoring sleepily, groaning and sighing gently in the early morning. There was the faint sounds of a baby crying in some, more distant part of the streets. The whole scene was very relaxing.  
  
She picked up her pen, to try to make her beautiful dreams turn into words, and let others visualize, but it seemed impossible at this moment. She tapped her fingers on the paper, but nothing came. No images. She was only in one world, not both, like usual. This disturbed her greatly. Had she lost the gift that he life needed? Why had it gone away, and how? She pondered this for hours, sitting on the balcony, watching the rising sun, and letting the river of thoughts flow freely threw her head. She twisted a piece of her hair around with her finger, playing with an idea. It seemed like she had only one option. It was 8:07 am. If she left within ten minutes, it would be almost nine by the time she got to her destination. She walked, silently and gracefully inside. After flinging on what appeared to be a presentable outfit, throwing her pyjamas on the bed, and brushing her hair, she grabbed her bag and a light, spring jacket, to get on her way. Then, just as she was locking the door behind her, she rembered her sleeping mother.  
  
Mom,  
  
I need a bit of time to myself. Thanks for understanding.  
  
I can't say when I'll be back, but I've got everything covered.  
  
See you before supper,  
  
-Trinity  
  
She scrawled the hasty note and posted it on the door to her mother's room. She could hear a slight snore. The door opened a bit, and she peered inside to see her mother's small room, with not a bed, but a mattress, slightly elevated off the ground thanks to some odd platform she had managed to assemble. Maria was in peace, a look of complete satifaction on her face, like nothing had ever happened. Trinity half expected to see her father lying there beside her, before the abuse, before the pain. She remebered when she was very small, how she'd wake up early on the days he promised to take her somewhere; fishing, or to a carnival. How she'd bring in her books, sit by their bed, and read, waiting patiently for them to get up, sometimes waking them if they slept in too late for her liking, by jumping up and down at the foot of their bed.  
  
A tear stung in the corner of her eye as she rembered what had once been considered her family, whe she had once felt an emotion called 'love' for her father. She hardly remebered this, but it had been so one time. Now she felt hatred... but he was still her father, and she could not erase the memory of the once cleanly-shave and bright smiling man, while the big imagination and the twinkling eyes, who gave the greatests hugs and was always there. But what had he become? An alcohol-addicted, overly- possesive, absuing husband. How could there had been such a change?  
  
The tear stung more, but she blinked, and quickly wipped it away. It was obvious she was living in the past, which was a mirage she could drown in. She needed to concentrate on the current life. She tossed her head back, and turned away. Then, by sudden impulse, she turned back, looking at the sound figure of her mother at rest. She crept in and stared at her, long hair curling around her silky face. She was beautiful. Trinity looked down, and gently kissed her on the left cheek. Maria made a bit of a 'mph' noise, and then rolled along back into her dream.  
  
As she left, Trinity did not look back this time. She closed the door, carefully locked it, and head out of her appartement. She had places to go, and not enough time to live in the past. Although it went on for eternity, but there never seemed to be enough of it. She had to use it creativly. This time was hers.  
  
  
  
"Gerroff!" Ron's muffled voice could be heard quite distintcly under the pile of cushions that had unfortunately fallen upon him. Dean Thomas, who had made them do so, laughed in delight, seeing the expression on the youngest Weasley son's face.  
  
"Next time, you'll know not ta get into a pillow fight with me, right?" Dean chuckled, sweeping his wand so they made a delightful 'whomp'ing sound as they pounded him in the head.  
  
It was late at night in the Griffendor common room, and, while waiting for Harry, the boys had gotten themselves into a tad of mischief. Only Hermione didn't seem to take this gleefully. She glared at Ginny, in hysterics, who's face was red as her hair.  
  
"Oh, come offit now, I really don't think that's funny, really!" her expression was one of slight annoyance, but even she giggled, secretively, as Ron got hit yet another time. Parvati Patil sat next to Ginny, starring at the comical scene, in the same state.  
  
"Oooo... stoppit.. Stoppit..." she clutched her side in pain.  
  
Suddenly, Harry came, with a popping noise, out of the fire, much to Ron's delight. In the commotion of seeing what had happened, Dean had dropped his wand, and he was now free of his war.  
  
"Who'd you see this time?" Ginny asked blushing, as Harry looked her way.  
  
"Saini," he said, and as he got queer looks, he explained further. "You know, the girl, daughter of Parvati..."  
  
"Parvati?" Parvati asked, wrinkling her nose. "Saini's mother was a prostitue... she was named Parvati?"  
  
"Not a prostitue!" Harry said in anger. "Well, yes but.... it was because she cared so much about them, her kids!."  
  
"A prostitue," she insisted, watching the red grow on his cheeks.  
  
"No.... but kinda... oh well! She's dead, anyhow! You happy?!" he retorted.  
  
"Oh great, so I'm a DEAD prostitute," she groaned and walked away. "I'm going off to bed."  
  
Harry didn't care. He didn't even like telling Parvati, infact, he prefered to tell only Ron and Hermione, but Ginny, Dean, and her had found out in an accident. They were sworn not to tell, and anyways, they all seemed to enjoy how he told them about his adventures.  
  
"India!" Ginny gasped as he had completed his tale. "I'd love to go there!" "It's a very beautiful place," Harry nodded, "and it's not all poor- like. They just show it like that in the media and all."  
  
By now, thanks to Harry's great efforts to explain, they needn't question what 'media' was, which was very useful for him.  
  
Just then, he glanced down at his watch.  
  
"Well, I think I'll nip a bit to eat, and then I've got some business to attend to," he said casually.  
  
"Can I come?" Ron asked hopefully. Hermione shot him a look.  
  
Harry looked at Ron, and began to turn a thought he had been having, over and over in his mind. He decided now was the time to explain what he had been trying to for a while.  
  
"I wish you could, Ron," he said. "Really, I wish everyone could. But I don't how how I do it, I just leave, and see them. I remember how one time, you were all able to come, we had the snowbal fight and all... I don't know how you did..."  
  
"On their date?" Ron asked, grinning evily.  
  
"They prefer to call it an 'outing,'" Harry smiled in the same way. "Yes, but really, I don't see it. Apparently, we're a book there."  
  
"A book?" asked Hermione. "A book?! Like a biography?"  
  
"No, not even," Harry shook his head. "Some lady named Mrs. JK Rowling seems to have.. Well.... Invented us! I think... I think she thinks she is dreaming up a plot, but really, somehow, there are connections in our head. So she thinks she just made up Hogwarts and all, but she doesn't know it actually exists. The book is considered 'fantasy' and 'fiction.'"  
  
"That's creepy!" said Ginny, eyes wide.  
  
"So she can tell every thought passing threw our head?" Dean asked in uncertainty. Harry nodded, and Ginny turned a very nice shade of scarlet. While they discussed it, she crept away, up to her dormitory. She had a bit of reading to do.  
  
Normally, Ginny hated diaries. Ever since her first year when one almost killed her. She had never kept one, or never read one. Until now. What she had in her hands was an exact replica of Trinity's book, 'I Wrote This.' she peered down at the pages, watching the words being written, telling her everything that Trinity was doing. Suddenly, she had a thought.She had always thought Trinity had been a work of fiction, something from a book. But now she realised she was a simple book to Trinity. So which world was real? Her wizarding one, or the one in the book Trinity desrcibed? Could they both be on the same planet? Or were they merely on two different, yet identical ones? This made her brain sora, as she flipped threw the pages in awe and wonder.  
  
"Keep at it, Trin," she whispered into the pieces of paper, wondering why she had done such a comical action.  
  
It was about 8:30. Trinity muched on a bagel, to stop her aching stomach's growls for hunger. She knew she had to appologise, she had to. But she wasn't sure how. Could she do it? Where could she find the strength? Where was her encouragement? Suddenly, she felt alone and helpless, lost in a world that didn't care. Did what she did matter? Who was on her side?  
  
A voice rang out from the cloud, almost answering her. She was a girl, about her age, friendly and sweet looking. She had firey red hair and a golden smile. It glowed as she faced her.  
  
"Keep at it, Trin," she whispered, then disapeared.  
  
Someone cared.  
  
  
  
So.... it wasn't quite my usual style, with all the Harry's life and all, but still, was it good? Was it confusing? I'd love to know....  
  
Thanks to all who reviewed. Seriously, it makes me happy to know that some people appreciate my work, and that what I post is not posted in vain. Thank you. 


	14. Needing Something Else

Chapter 14  
  
First of all... I'd like to thank all reviewers and readers.... I'll be posting mire since I got the next trunk of info. I'm a hands-on person, so I was kinda waiting for 'Trin's package.. So sorry! But now that there's NO EXAMS and I have it... I'll be updating! Yay! OK, I'll get on with it!  
  
To disclaimers: Do I own? Take a WILD, WILD guess!!!!!  
  
-When the wind dies down, a calm will settle. When life seems to go wrong, something will appear. If burdens are heavy, you are not carrying them alone. The free soul can fly if the body is bound to the heaviest of rocks with the tightest of shackles. If the body is a heap of ashes, then the spirit can set free. For every ending there is a begining, which will someday come to end again, in the ever-going circle. Someone will always watch over your shoulder, someone will whisper encouragement in your darkest hour. When all lights are fading, atleast they have not gone out. When everyone else has abadonned you, I am your hope.-  
  
Saini sighed heavily at her last reminents of food. It was obvious she would not survie on it much longer, with only a few rolls to split between the already starving her and Mohan. She needed to get some more... but how? Maybe she could work dirty money... no... she was too young, not yet developed, and not the proper shape that the men liked. Besides, she would hate to do that... the thought of it made her shiver. And, no man would pay for her. The only ones intrested in a girl her age would be the gross ones who couldn't get it anywhere else, had spent all their money on drugs and other such, and would never even consider paying. Infact, she didn't even have to tell them her service, if it was night and they came around.... she shivered again, wishing more than ever that her father had not died, or her mother, that they could be a normal family. They had even been quite well off, thinking about moving into a nicer house. But now, everything had changed.  
  
"Hello?" she heard a familiar voice.  
  
"Hari?" she smiled, her voice heavily accented, making Harry smile.  
  
"Hello," he repeated, gazing into her huge chocolate brown eyes, not sure of what to say. He had a bit of a foolish smile on his face, like someting had just thrown him off his normal balance. His eyes had the usual glint, and his black hair was messily thrown all over his head.  
  
She grinned, and sat down, smoothing her messy purple dress, attempting to make herself look presentable. He grinned slightly, as she combed her long black hair with her fingers. She busied herself getting her corner of the alley 'more comfortable', as if it were a house. He was fighting back the huge tugging feeling at his cheeks. It wasn't nice, she'd think he was mocking her. She arranged the bags and garbage into two comfortable seats, careful not to disturb Mohan, sleeping under her raggedy sari cloth.  
  
She handed him a old chipped plastic tea cup, full of what Harry supposed to be water. It looked nothing like the clear liquid he was used to at home, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he thought about how freely he let the water flow at home in the shower, in the morning.  
  
"I have only a little, so I hope this isn't too bad," she said, with a big smile. He felt the twinge grow larger. Only a couple stale buns and a bit of what looked to be contaminated water. He wished he could bring her something from Hogwarts, a bit of the ever-plentiful breakfast. But he knew only he could connect with the real world. In oltherwords, he was there, but just barely. If he were to take off his clothes, no one else could wear them, but if someone were to give him clothes, he could gratefully accept them. It was odd, and he accepted the food, knowing better. If he denied, Saini would feel poor and offended. He could sense it all. It was one of the dangers of being this sort of real, knowing everything. When he first met Ria, he sensed her pain, and all the hate towards mankind, towards everyone. It was scary, knowing another human as well, if not better, than themselves.  
  
He forced down the section of the bun with a huge, fake smile, then moved on to the water. He look a large gulp, and nearly fainted into a fit of sputtering coughs. He gave her another smile.  
  
"Deeee-licious!" he lied, keeping the smile. She grinned, truly, back, glad he had liked it.  
  
"How are your friends?" she asked, taking a sip of the water, and savouring the flavour, as if it was some type of wonderful cup of heaven.  
  
"Well... the ones at Hogwarts, they're fine and all, and as for the others like you..." he began.  
  
"There are no others like me," she interrupted, grinning broadly.  
  
"OK, so, the others I visit," he corrected himself. "They're fine too. Well, as fine as fine goes, you know? I'm visiting another girl after you, her name's Trinity, and she comes from North America."  
  
"Intresting," she said, taking another sip from the pink, cracked tea cup. "North America.. Wow... I'd really like to meet all the people you talk about sometimes. Wouldn't that be neat, Hari? All the people.. In a big group, gathering thing. I think that'd be.. That'd be..." she saerched for the words, and remebered one he had used once. "That'd be cool!"  
  
"Yea," he smiled, but his brain was frowning. "That'd be cool," he repeated.  
  
They chatted longer, but already he felt another symptom of this travel coming along, and this wasn't one you could cure with a mere concotion or brew. It needed a much more powerful form of healing. A stronger for of magic.  
  
Trinity ran as fast as she could, fearing she'd miss the bus. There wouldn't be another one for atleast an hour, and she didn't want to take the chance that Collin would be out somewhere as she got there. She needed to get there early, or right on time, even though this was quite unexpected, and there was no set one. She bit her lip as the bus came to a halting stop. She rushed on quickly, and grabbed a seat. There was hardly anyone else on, most not making a journey at ten past eight on a Saturday morning, but she was in no way normal. She took a ferocious bite out of her cream cheese bagel she had gotten with a little of her pocket money she had earned. Usually, she didn't do this, but there was no food in the house for breakfast, unless she wanted Kraft Dinner. She grinned. Her mother hated it, calling it not food but 'luminant plastic in a packet.'  
  
The ride wasn't too long, but very bumpy. She thudded along as slowly, a few more people got on and it began to crowd up. She was light, and often flew out of her seat. It was a wonder no serious damage had been done to her as the bus thumped along the brick road of Historic Properties, and she was quite happy (but quite sick to the stomach) as she got off. There was only a bit of a walk, and she liked to sunny April morning, just cool enough for a light, cotton jacket or a warm sweater. The breeze tickled her short hair, flying across her nose and causing her to sneeze. It was very pleasant. But as soon as her stomach had started to settle down from the bus ride, it aroused into a new ache, a new fear. She realised what she was going to do. She was going to Collin's! What was she going to say? Just walk right up to his house, his mother answering the door, and tell her she needed to appologise for hurting her son? A sudden shyness came over her extremely quickly, quicker than normal. She realised she was going to visit a BOY'S house... a boy's! She blushed. The only other time she had actually gone into a guy's house was for school, or an eigth birthday party, or something of the sort. She wasn't very far away, and she had various choices; to go to his house, to go back home, or to wander around. It didn't take her logic long to decide, but the rest of herself was quite another matter.  
  
In the logic's view, it would be very stupid to turn back now. But in her mind, she felt like she just couldn't do it. But then, as sharp as before, yet in the same soothing whisper, she heard it.  
  
"Keep at it, Trin."  
  
She knew, at that moment exactly, that she couldn't turn back now. It was hers to do. The thought from earlier came back. This was her chance. This was her dream. This was her destiny. This was her time. She had to go see him, to appologise. Her mind was made up, but she had a feeling this was more effort than she thought. She dragged herself slowly along the sidewalk, closer and closer in the direction of his house. By the time she reached his street, her face was a flushed pink, and she was shaking slightly, obviously very nervous. It wasn't the fact she couldn't applologise, it was just... arg.. Her hormones. She wasn't sure of herself, filled with any certainty. She wasn't Trinity, three in one, she felt just like one, small person in the world. Just another speck on a planet with 6 billion others just like her. As she walked along the fairly busy street feeling alone. But she knew she couldn't give in now, she would never be able to forgive herself if she did. This was something that had to be done. She needed the feel of being guiltless. She needed the knowledge that she could sleep with a consious clear of this tonight. There was so much in her head already, she didn't need anymore clouding it.  
  
There are so many elements of survival, so many different ones. Saini needed a shelter to live in, food to feed her brother, and saftely to live. Those were the basics. But what she really needed was something more. She needed to feel secure, to feel she had protected mohan, and that she could live with a clear consious that she had suceeded. She needed someone older, she could trust to confide in, and words of reassurance so she could have confidence. When commercials spoke of pauverty, they mentioned food and drink, but never did they say of what really mattered. Saini would have rathered die hungry with comfort than live full in pain. Anna needed someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone to care, not just a store bought sympathy card with a signature. Marvin needed someone to understand what mattered to him, not lawyers smiling and saying that they'd try, when they didn't mean it. Mathew needed a father, and an explination. Ria needed respect and dignity, yet none of them got what they needed. Trinity needed something else.  
  
"I can't do this," she whispered to herself, biting her tongue. She thought she felt a twinge of a tear in the corner of her eye. She was so unsure of herself. It had been love that had nearly killed her mother, and that thought haunted them both forever. She was ashamed to love. She was embarrased.  
  
"Keep at it, Trin."  
  
For the fourth time that day, she heard the words. She had to do this, she had too. It wasn't a question, it was a demanded. Suddenly, she felt angry that she had almost been crying. She bit her lip, and held her head up straight, keeping her posture perfect. In long, graceful strides, she walked down the street until she was almost to his house. She stopped right infront of it, to draw a breath of confidence for what she was about to do.  
  
It was Saturday. Collin would not have gotten up so bright and early (9:38 am) if it had not been for the malfunctioning of his alarm clock. He was about to act like the typacle stupid male and go back to sleep, setting it for two o'clock in the afternoon, when there, infront of his house, was Trinity, looking up threw the window, but not really. Infact, she hadn't been trying to see threw it, but she was merely randomly looking around. But Collin didn't know that. He didn't even know that she couldn't see threw the glass, because of the way the glass was made. All he knew was that he should trust his insticnts, so he did. He grabbed a shirt, then looked at it, and threw it away. Then grabbed it again, then threw it away. Finally, he decided upon getting dressed and casually (yeah, right) walking out, pretending he hadn't noticed her.  
  
You can always get punched by a girl, but that cannot stop you from secretly liking her.  
  
After debating over which jeans to wear, throwing on a shirt, and arranging his hair, he was out, practically quivering as he thumped down the steps inti his front yard.  
  
Trinity looked at him. Had it been a normal day, her eyebrow might have raised in curiosity about why he had his shirt on backwards, but this was not normal.  
  
"Hey," he whispered, breathing out and calming down.  
  
"Hi," she said, her eyes looking fearful.  
  
"I was just going out to skateboard," he motioned to his board, and then realised it wasn't there. He blushed and went back to reality. "But.... you wanna talk or something? Or where you just walking by."  
  
"No..... let's talk," she said shyly.  
  
"Arg.. He's really, really calm," Trinity frowned at her nervousness.  
  
"How can she seem so comfortable?" Collin wondered in embarrasment.  
  
They each drew a deep breath, tried to smile, and set off along the street, each thinking about how stupid they felt.  
Well.... that's it for now! I hope you liked..... nothing else I can think to say. 


End file.
